The King
by blurr
Summary: Enelya, a she-elf who is close friends with the King, is given to Legolas as a royal concubine, but perhaps this is a cover up? A story about relationships & dialogue between friends and lovers. Romantic read, not detail-oriented with the original LOTR.
1. The Game

**update: hi friends! It's literally been five (correction, six!) years since I first started this story!**  
**I know you have waited patiently for it to finish, so alas, I'm doing just that. Complete with  
revisions. Today is Feb.13, 2011, edited chapters will be completed by Feb 20th, and story will  
****be ****completed by March 15th, 2011. For you, friends. You can follow along with the progress on my profile.  
Thanks so much for the support and encouragement to finish! I left the story in an awkward place and it was  
always difficult to take off from where I last left off. But I'm determined to finish now, because frankly you deserve it.  
love, blurr **

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR

* * *

**The King**

Chapter One: _The Game_

by blurr

* * *

The King was highly amused.

She was standing a few feet away from him, her arms crossed, staring intently across the field. Her long black hair had a few braids here and there, tucked behind her ears. The very ends started to wave; she always laughed saying they were like the sea. It reached to her lower back, and to his great delight, she rarely pulled it back. She had two soft arches that framed the most unusual pair of almond shaped dark brown eyes that he swore were plum with gold specks.

Her fair skin was his favorite feature of all. He took great delight in the smooth milky skin that felt like silk to the touch. Despite her porcelain perfection, her high cheekbones were blessed with a natural pink hue. Her lips were a deep pink, naturally swollen to a sinfully delicious degree. They seemed to always be slightly parted; she always had an uncanny habit of chewing her lower lip drawing attention to her welcoming mouth.

Of course she was gorgeous, what elf wasn't? He wondered if she realized how sensual she really was. She was indeed darkly beautiful. Almost forbidden. He couldn't help but wonder if his son would find her the same way.

"You cheated." Enelya finally announced with little conviction. And apparently, to his great dismay, she had the perfect ability of a keen observation.

Thranduil glanced at the arrow that was lodged neatly in the middle of the target before looking back at the disapproving maiden before him. "Pray tell, my child, _how _did I cheat?"

"You are the master mind, who knows what evil ideas lurk between your eyes." She retorted with a grim look. "You cheated, and that is that."

He tried his best to be reasonable. "If I drew my arrow like so," and here the King dramatically did as such, "aimed for the center as I do now," he squinted one eye for special effect provoking an unimpressed sigh from the lady, "released," he parted his fingers as the arrow took off and, to his delight, split the first arrow with a resounding crack, "and it hits in the center as it should," he allowed himself a proud smile, "how, my child, did I cheat? Am I simply not a master of the art of archery? Am I not simply blessed?"

"Blessed with arrogance." Came the curt reply.

"You would speak to a King as such?"

"I would speak to a foolish elf as such."

Thranduil felt anger stir in his gut- much to his great delight. It was a rare event for someone to provoke him. He enjoyed a challenge here and there. Especially when it came from a particular fiery and beautiful young she-elf.

So mustering his best, 'King-like-tone', he gave her a sharp warning, "You forget your place."

Enelya easily ignored him, knowing well that he got a kick out of provoking her; it seemed to be his source of entertainment.

"You are doing something strange." She continued, unfazed from his intense glare that she knew to be all an act. Generally it would cause her to laugh but she was simply dumbfounded by the arrows lodged perfectly center in the target. He was never that good before. She doubted he spent much time practicing; he hadn't the patience for such discipline. What was he doing? The king stood with his stance slightly off, he held the bow too loose, and by the way his shoulders slouched he should have been pulling to the left.

"From your stance, you should be hitting the tree over there, not the target." She tapped a finger against her chin and studied the older elf carefully. "I have it." She turned to him and smiled slyly. "You have put silver on your arrows for weight thus the arrows pull right hitting the target!" And then, as if her realization of his actions finally sunk in, she pointed at him in disbelief as her voice dropped to a hiss, "You cheater!"

Thranduil didn't know if he should roll his eyes at the accusation or roar with laughter. Instead he tried to maintain his reputation with firm defensiveness.

"I am not a cheater." To hold his ground he added, "and you will remember whom you are speaking with. I could have your head on a silver platter if I requested it."

"Forgive me." She placed a hand on her hip, causing great amusement in the King, which he did not allow to show. "You have put silver on your arrows for weight," she paused for dramatic effect, "_my Lord_." She raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge knowing well the King would not let up.

Thrandiul felt outraged, and he _loved_ it. What a lass she was to evoke such raw emotions out of him. Somewhere in his recesses of his mind he realized she was much too young for him, and his beloved best friend's daughter, but oh, how the lass provoked the depths of his soul.

Instead of expressing as much, he resolved to just cross his arms and glare. "You are accusing the King of Mirkwood, my lady, of a low and unrespectable act."

"Actions reflect the actor." Was the quick reply. She shifted her weight and gave him a hard look.

He was shocked to say the least. Did she just insult the King of Mirkwood, _yet again_?

It took him a moment to find his voice, "Are you calling me unrespectable?" He wanted to cringe at the way his voice dropped to a whisper. She merely smirked before folding her arms across her chest and shifted her weight once again. She knew she was pulling him down.

"No." Good, he thought. But then she added, "I was leaning towards low, my friend."

For her sake he ignored that remark.

"Besides, I never use silver. To hard to mold to the arrow, makes your aim always pull too far to the right." He too crossed his arms, mustering up a mischievous smile.

Whenever he had that look she had to remind herself that this was no young man but a man who have lived beyond her time. Though she had lived two hundred winters pass, she could not comprehend the thousands that he had endured. She felt a warm smile come up as she realized once again, that this young man with boyish features was yet an old and wise elf.

"I use gold lining, it's more fitting for a king, don't you think?" Well, wise in the matters of cheating.

He was delighted as she broke into soft laughter that was perfectly feminine and sweet. It was moments like these he would forget his title- she had the ability with just her laughter to make him feel young again.

"Let me see how you did it." Enelya reached for an arrow, to which he intervened and pulled her reaching hand into his elbow. He ignored her disapproving glare and led her towards the human-like cabin where she lived with her father.

"Nay, my lady, I am afraid that the secrets of a king are plentiful and best kept unknown."

"Indeed," Enelya rested her head against his shoulder, allowing him to pull them along the dirt path. He was much more respectable when he kept his mouth shut she thought grimly. But the King, still trying to defend his actions, decided against keeping his mouth shut. He was one to speak, and she, god willing, would be one to listen.

"How else am I to hold up against my son in the sport?"

She sighed, would he never give up?

"From what I hear, no one can hold up to your son in the sport. Is he truly as good as the legend creates him out to be?" She looked up to him in question. When he saw her gaze on him he felt something in his chest tighten- guilt poured over him in a swift wave of dizziness. He tightened his hold on her arm, grateful that she didn't seem to notice. How could he go behind her back and arrange her future without her knowledge?

She had known the King since her birth. Her father had served as his First Advisor before stepping out office with the death of her mother. She had died just days after Enelya came into the world. The death of her mother was a strange event since no one could explain it. Her father, when asked, would shrug and merely respond with a light heart that only one of the two beauties could remain, since the world was not big enough for them both. Her father then decided it was best to move away from Mirkwood. He took his daughter to the mountains to reside, hoping the trees would heal his soul. King Thranduil would come and visit as much as he could, treating Enelya as his own daughter.

How could he deceive her in such a fashion?

"When do you return to Mirkwood, my Lord?" Enelya asked after a moment of silence, curious at the King's sudden somberness.

"When I please." He lifted a brow, "Have you decided to come visit on your own accord?"

"Have you decided you could stand my presence in the halls of your home?"

He snorted. "Hardly. A lady of your caliber would do nicely though among my servants."

"The day I clean after you is the day I -"

"I would have you meet my son though." She rolled her eyes at the interruption. Of course he would have her meet his son, he's only been suggesting towards a union between the two for years now. "The two of you would get along nicely."

"Indeed." She pushed a few stray hairs out of her face and shot him a dirty look. He always made comments of the like, however this particular trip him and her father had been acting strange. They brought Legolas up in every conversation, pointed out all of their similarities, even went as far as discussing a trip for her to go meet him. "Did it pass your observation that the Prince is but a few thousand years older than me?"

He waved his hand in the air to dismiss the thought. "What is age but years of repetition? We are all the same age really. Though I have wisdom beyond your years, you have maturity that matches my own. Are we not the same?"

"I'm flattered, but your maturity matches an elf that is but three winters old, my Lord. Meanwhile, your son I hear is engaged."

Ah, that he was. Legolas was indeed engaged to a pretty little number from Rivendell- strictly a political binding, yet, beneficial all the same. It was beyond time for the Prince to marry, and while Thranduil would have desired to see his son fall in love, he was pleased he could expect little runts running around the palace in the following years calling him Grandpa. "You speak the truth, my child, it is about time."

Enelya caught a strange tone in the older elf's voice. Did he sound disappointed? "Are you not pleased with the match?"

"I am well pleased with the match, I just wish I could bend political rules so that my son would have the chance to fall in love with you." But, he thought, perhaps that could still be arranged. Thrandiul smirked at her annoyed look. She wore her emotions so openly; he admired her greatly for such a risky habit. She tried to pull away from the stubborn elf, who merely tighten his hold on her.

"I'm sure you would bend heaven and earth to have your son fall in love with me." She rolled her eyes at the thought. "Is he pleased with the match?"

"He is very stubborn about his independence; yet he is willing to fulfill his duty for his crown. He is not pleased however. It is a good match for Mirkwood. Long have we needed a secure alliance with Rivendell, this marriage is the best contract yet." And then, as an afterthought he added, "His stubbornness could rival your own, you two would kill each other I am sure."

"Then it is well, for I am not marrying your son." Thranduil stopped mid step and turned to the black hair beauty who was once again pushing aside stubborn strands that mingled with the breeze. Amused, he reached up and tucked the strands behind her ear. She narrowed her eyes, not liking at all the look on his face.

"And why do you dismiss the idea without even meeting him, my love?"

"What did you do? Your look has an illness to it, what did you do Thranduil?" She hardly ever used his name, and he was surprised at the firmness that she spoke it.

"You did not answer my question." Why did it irk him so whenever she dismissed the idea of a union between her and the Prince? Did it really step on his ego that much that someone could not be interested in his son? She felt the tension and longed to ease it.

"He is not like you, is that not so?" she asked. She looked thoughtful.

It was true. The father and son were known for their differences. "Yes."

Her lips made a sour pout. "And I'm afraid if I ever married, he would have to be just like you." And with that the peaceful mountain erupted with the thunderous laugh of the amused Mirkwood King. The two resumed their steps, both of them with content smiles.

"And what of my father?" she asked after a few minutes of peaceful silence. "Does he approve of Legolas' engagement?"

"Of course I do. It is well that the boy is getting married. It is good to have him settle down, every elf desires it." Duramin stood at the doorway, watching his friend and daughter converse up the path. "And I am pleased that I can give him such a wonderful wedding gift."

Thranduil watched as Enelya's smile was replaced by a genuine curiosity. "My lord, what gift have you to offer the Prince of Mirkwood?" How come her father had not mentioned anything before? She was slightly irritated that he always planned and arranged things without ever consulting her, yet, determined to have a good day she let the thought pass.

Duramin opened the door even further for the two to come in, glancing at the King warily. "Perhaps you should come inside and take a seat. We have much to discuss my daughter."

Enelya glanced at the King, looking for any emotion to give away what she should expect. Yet the King wore no expression and simply gestured for her to go on in first. Why would his son's engagement concern her? What kind of gift was this? Once inside the tiny cabin, Duramin gestured towards the table, which they all sat around. A moment of awkward silence hovered over the three until Enelya could not take it anymore.

"My Lord, what gift do you plan to offer the Prince? Why does it cause an ill look upon your face?" Enelya asked, watching the frown steep further in her father's brow.

He gave the King a long look, understanding that neither of them wanted to break her heart like this. "I have long thought of what I would give Legolas as a gift if he were to marry." Duramin leaned forward and place a hand under his chin. "And I am pleased that the gift I have to offer has been accepted from the King."

Enelya smiled uneasily. "That is well, but what gift would the King not accept? Enough suspense my father. What has the King accepted?"

"Mirkwood's best daughter."

A confused frown appeared on Enelya's brow and Thranduil felt like sighing. It would only get worse "I do not understand-"

"You, my daughter." This only deepened the confusion in Enelya. What did he mean her?

She looked at the King for some explanation- but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Some things were better left between families. Taking Thranduil's sudden silence as an extreme, Enelya felt panic fold over in her stomach. What was going on? Surely he did not mean to give Legolas herself as a servant on his royal staff? No, that was out of the question. She was higher up in social standards than a servant. And it wasn't a possibility that he meant her to be a mistress, that was outrageous-she paused mid thought and looked at her father sharply.

Seeing the realization settle in her eyes, he could only give her a grim, apologetic look. "My lord, surely you cannot suggest that I would be a con-"

"Concubine?" Duramin finished for her. He leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms at his chest. He tried to ignore the frighten look in his daughter's face while he continued. "There is nothing wrong with being a royal concubine. It is an honorable position."

"Nothing wrong with being a royal whore is what you mean. It is a disgusting trait found only among the humans! You can't expect that of me." Both older elves winced at the raised tone. Enelya didn't exactly have a reputation for being reasonable and patient "I will have no part of it. And you," she pointed an angry finger at the King, "should have had the decency to forbid such a low act in your court!"

Thranduil decided it was best to finally join the conversation. "Enelya-"

"That is Lady Enelya to you." She spat out brusquely.

"_Lady Enelya" _he said tersely, "There is nothing-"

"Don't even say it! I will not hear it. I will not be a mistress!" She would have stood and left the table, leaving the conversation at that, but the King saw her lean forward to push her chair back and grabbed her wrist, keeping her in her seat.

"Let me go." She muttered through clenched teeth.

"You will honor your father by obeying his will." He responded just as deadly. He met her gaze head on, inwardly marveling at her challenge. She had quite the spirit.

"I will not be your son's sex toy!"

"Lover, actually," he said, smirking. Surely she did not have the role of a concubine confused with a one-night stand. "You are certainly," he lifted a brow, "not a toy."

She paid him no attention however, turning her wrath back to her father. "How do I bring you honor by sleeping with another woman's husband? How does being a royal whore-"

"Concubine," the King pointed out.

"_Whore_," Enelya continued, "bring you respect? And how dare you give me away in such a manner. You of all people! What of your lectures on how to make my own decisions? Be my own person? And now you make a decision on how I will spend the rest of my life without my say? I will not be allowed to have children, I cannot marry, I cannot fall in love," she closed her eyes and paused. She would never fall in love now. She ignored the sinking feeling in her gut and continued in a whisper, "And this misery brings you honor?" She did have a point, could they not see that? "Take it back, take it back right now in front of the King. I want to hear you take it back."

"My child, you should calm down." her father said softly, reaching for her hand.

"Forgive me, for I cannot. I have just been sold." Enelya felt annoyed that her voice was starting to choke with emotion, but she continued ranting away. "I have been sold by my own father."

"I made no gold off of you." Thranduil put in, gaining him a sharp glare from the angry she-elf. "Come now, surely you can see the benefits of this."

"Pray tell, what benefits will come of me being a sex toy?" Enelya crossed her arms and learned against the back of the chair. She was truly curious to see what the King could come up with.

Thranduil met her challenge to her dismay. He decided that she had spoken out of place enough.

"You will be in the court, where you belong. You will interact with elves your own age. You will learn to be a civil she-elf, and hopefully, having a master will teach you some manners. And perhaps you will learn a little about honor and respecting your elders, your father, and your King. Do I make myself clear or shall I spell it out slowly for you? You will be my son's concubine, it is already official. He has already been informed of your arrival. When I return to Mirkwood you will be ready to leave with your head held high because your father and I never taught you to act like an immature, spoiled girl. So I suggest you use these last days of your freedom wisely."

He sighed, and this time, seeing her face downcast continued in a softer, more reasonable voice, "You do not want to leave your father on bad terms, my child. Believe me."

He expected her to slap him, to scream, shriek, anything. But when she lifted her gaze to him he saw the hurt. Hurt that he caused with his words. He wasn't expecting that. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair to smooth out the tension he felt building. They had both expected her to react in such a manner, but seeing the look on her face was clearly the clincher. He would torture any other to cause such a grim expression on his dear Enelya, and yet here he was provoking such sorrow in her.

Duramin, seeing the King's resolve, hesitantly laid a hand on his daughter shoulder, disturbed when she did not pull away or snap at him. Why the sudden defeat?

"My daughter, Legolas is a good man, and this is a common practice throughout Middle Earth. There is no dishonor in being chosen for such role."

"And what role is that?" Her voice was lacking the previous fire and anger, and instead, it took on a desperate plea. "To bring sexual satisfaction to the King's son? Is that all I am good for?" However, she didn't give them a chance to respond and instead voiced her greatest fear, "And what if I cannot even do that? What if he is displeased with me? I am not a wife where I have the security of a binding vow, I can easily be thrown away and replaced. How will I live with that fear in my heart every night?"

Neither could think of a comforting answer.

"I trusted both of you to protect my well being, not sell me off. I never could have thought such deceit was possible with either of you." She stood up, looking blankly at her friend.

"Some King of Mirkwood."

And with that they could only watch as she drew her self away from the table and went into the other room, softly shutting the door behind. They could hear as she slowly let her pain fill the night with her cries. Duramin laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, murmuring it was for the best. Was it, the King thought? He felt sick at what they had done. He closed his eyes as each of her sobs drove into his heart.

Some King Indeed.

* * *

**T.B.C.**

No fears friends, this is a Legolas romance, not the King's; but his relationship with our lovely lass is just as important and key in our story.  
ps: I'm not very interested in all your facts about how my story doesn't fit with all real LOTR story, or how unrealistic my main characters are.  
While they are interesting and informative facts, my story is not meant to match or to be an extension of the original LOTR series- nor is it meant to be realistic.  
It's meant for enjoyment, friends!

love,  
blurr


	2. Desire

The King

Chapter Two: _Desire_

by blurr

* * *

The night moved slowly, creeping over the mountains that Enelya knew as her home. She gazed at them for hours, the tall peaks standing against the sky like ancient gods. Gods that guided her throughout her life and now she was to trade them for the darkness of the caves of Mirkwood. Just the thought caused her heart great pain. But what was she to do? She could not refuse; that was simply the easy way out. No, she would accept her fate; honor her father and her King, and hopefully please her Prince.

But why did it hurt so much?

Why did she not feel so honored, as her father said she was?

Yes, she had been accepted as the royal concubine. The royal concubine was a high title, a she-elf with such grace and beauty that she was treated as a precious jewel. She felt like snorting at the thought, this role that was expected of her made her feel like anything other than a most valued treasure. She wanted to say she did not know why she felt so numb inside, but in honesty, she knew the truth.

The King had given her away. She felt ashamed of how this made her feel. Ever since that first meeting with the King, Enelya always held a young and foolish love for the older elf.

But wasn't this how it should bet? He was supposed to be her father figure, an uncle at that. And yet, here she was, upset that he would give her away instead of wanting her for himself.

She felt her gut sink. Oh God. She felt sick at the true emotions raging through her.

Enelya lifted a hand to her forehead. Blessed light, where did this desire come from?

She desperately wanted the King to take her, not his son; she didn't even know the Prince. Sure Legolas was renowned for his looks and archery. Sure he was a warrior among warriors, but was he a Lord among Lords? Did he possess years of pain, sorrow, joy, and control like his father? Did he contain that aged wisdom that peaked her curiosity? Could he look at her in the way that only the King had? Like a pearl, like a treasure?

But the King, ah- the King. He was an elf with power, wit, and good looks. He poured out sensuality, and yet, at the same time, was reserved enough to remain mysterious.

Could she even have these thoughts?

She felt guilty; she was but a small girl to the old king. Ah, but he didn't look so old. His handsome young looking face was framed by perfect, long, hair that seemed to be the color of the moonlight. His voice, while deep and wise, held a sense of boyish charm. The only sign to his age were his eyes, his deep eyes that made her feel lost if she didn't hold on to something.

Enelya cursed herself. What was to come of this realization?

The door opened and simply by his presence, she knew the King had come out to join her. Her gut folded over while her heart jumped to her throat. She clenched her fist, her nails biting into her palm. Good grace, had he sensed her thoughts and decided to come rebuke her?

Noting his silence, she forced herself to come across natural. Clearing her voice she forced a simple, "Good evening, my lord." She took a deep breath, letting the mountain air calm down her burning flesh. She felt a deep sense of pain cut into her chest, folding her over; why did she feel her relationship with him was plummeting?

Thranduil lost his wits for a moment, seeing her clad in her usual white attire, the moonlight shifting over her skin as she gazed over the mountain pass.

She was tense, he noted. Her shoulders unusually straighten, her fist clenched, her breathing perhaps a bit too fast. Was she still angry? _Of course she was_, he thought dimly. But all the while, she looked beautiful. A perfect gift from the Valar was the sight of her to him. She was simply too stunning not to touch. But he couldn't. She was to be his son's concubine. But wasn't everything in the Kingdom his? Why could he not enjoy her, she was his after all.

And so, carefully, he let his fingers find their way to her exposed shoulder, surprised at the way she stifled a gasp, apprehension clouding her eyes.

"You are upset with me?" He asked slowly, feeling unsure of himself; something that did not happen frequently.

She ignored his touch and responded dully, "You are mistaken, my lord."

His fingers traced slowly down to her elbow, drawing secret pictures as they went. He was fascinated with smooth velvety skin underneath his fingertips, soft and innocent. Enelya felt her heart beat faster. What was he doing? The rough skin of his hands provoked the most secret sensations that she had never experienced. Surely the King knew that she had not experienced a man before? At least, not with a willful heart like now.

She bit her lip at the dark thought.

She glanced at him, watching as he kept his eyes fixed on her exposed skin. She knew that look, but never had it been directed at her.

"Thranduil?" Her voice came out weak, catching his attention.

He realized exactly who it was he was feeling and the consequences and pulled back. This was Enelya, daughter of his best friend, soon to be royal concubine to his beloved son.

Ah, but this was Enelya, elf-maiden of the mountains that captured his heart with a simply laugh. The she-elf who saw him, not the crown on his head. The only elf-maiden who had the guts to be his friend rather than his admirer. And for that he desired her all the more.

The way her chest was heaving, her breast meeting the low collar in each intake of air was simply too much.

He only wanted a taste.

He put his hand on her waist, leisurely, marveling at how small and fragile she seemed. Her trembling amplified her vulnerability. This overcoming urge to keep her, protect her clouded his mind and he fumbled for a moment.

Could he be satisfied with just a taste? Would that suffice?

"Will you accept your role I have provided for you?" He asked, unsure at his own words, watching her eyes lazily finding his own. She nodded numbly. To his surprise, he felt a rise of disappointment. Where was her anger? Where was that passionate rage that he so loved on her pouted lips? Pulling her right against himself, he let his lips drift towards her exposed collarbone, exploring what wasn't meant for his questing.

"You would not fight this?" He asked tersely.

"You are unbelievable." She asked, finding her courage again. "You put me in this position and yet you expect me to rebel?" She narrowed her eyes at him, igniting a thrill in his gut. "And you have the nerve to rebuke me when I do?"

"You honor me then."

He continued his assault with a sly grin. He grazed her collarbone with soft kisses. The smell of lavender was overwhelming, putting a strain in his desire. He let his lips drift lower, grazing the tops of her exposed breast which rose with each staggered breath. "Do you wish to know why I have arranged this?"

His touch made her mind go blank. Unwilling, her hand went to his tunic, holding on as his lips pressed against her bosom.

"Done what?" She sighed, trembling.

"Made you a concubine?" Her only response was a slight moan, making him smile darkly. "I wanted the best for my son." Sobering, he straightened back up, for only a moment. Taking in the way her bottom lip was parted, her breath was heavy, her eyes lazy with lust. "You Enelya are the best. Only you could satisfy my son."

"Thranduil..." this time his name came out more as a sigh.

She couldn't believe it. She had never felt so on fire before. The King of Mirkwood was seducing her. Did he have too much wine that his actions were unguided? Her thoughts were frozen when Thranduil pulled at her lacings.

"Please," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I want to taste you."

She was shocked. This wasn't right, but she felt as though her will was melting, she didn't care if it wasn't right. Did he just intend to use her and hand her over to his son?

"I'm not for your tasting." She gritted out between her teeth, unbelievable rage sobering her lust.

He met her gaze straight on. "You were always meant for me. You are mine."

"So you are just breaking me in? Is that it _my friend?_"

Feeling like he was slapped he pulled back, looking over the hills for a moment to find his words. "You would think of me that low?"

"I know not what to think anymore." Came her quiet reply.

He nodded, that was fair. "Forgive me then, my Lady. I was wrong to touch you. I have disgraced you, haven't I?"

He glanced over to see her brows burrowed, a frown set deep into her lips.

"Disgraced me?" A small smile appeared, smoothing out the lines of her grimace. "I am flattered that my friend would desire me as such."

He laughed, reaching for her again. Her simple presence ruling out his judgment. "Then a taste you won't mind."

Losing her voice, she nodded numbly, not understanding what he really meant.

Satisfied, Thranduil took her lips roughly, provoking a deep moan from the maiden. She felt his hands become more demanding, pulling up her dress. This was moving too fast, but she didn't care. She just wanted him to indulge in her, take her.

"Say you are mine." He demanded into her ear. His breath was hot against her neck, making her forget herself. "Say it," he demanded again. His hand found her inner thigh. The soft touch of his fingers was driving her mad.

"I'm yours, my Lord," and the slow rhythm took her. Like a force, he took her, breaking her, rebuilding her, tearing down her walls once again. And while he carried her to that place that only he could take her, a hidden truth appeared in her mind. She loved him. And with that thought, the King of Mirkwood abruptly stopped and held her hard to himself.

The thought repeated in her again and the overwhelming sense of sorrow buried deep poured forward.

"My Lady," he growled deeply in ear, "You would dare play with fire?"

* * *

With a start, Enelya woke up, alone in her room.

A dream. It was nothing but a dream.

It took her a moment to calm her breath. The images replayed themselves violently. Never in her life had she ever thought of the King in a sexual manner. But now all she could do was desire the elf she knew as her friend and confidant.

She sighed and began praying the thoughts away. But no matter how hard she tried, the last words the King had spoken to her before she woke up kept replaying. But it felt so real, like elves dreams often are. Mixing truth and reality. How did she not notice this fondness she held for him before? Of course she was aware of his handsome looks, his perfect charm, but love him? And indeed she did love him, but not how a lover should be loved.

Pulling herself out of bed, Enelya made her way outside the small cabin, aching for the cool night air to calm her burning flesh. There under the stars she was sure to find her answers in the night. Opening the door however, she was met with the unnerving sight of Thranduil himself, gazing over the mountains, much like she had done during her dream.

Perplexed, Enelya felt her gut drop. He stood leaning against a support beam, his arms crossed, his eyes slightly unfocused. Despite , she felt concern etch at her emotions. "My friend, why are you out here?"

The King inwardly smiled at her words. Friend. So perhaps she wasn't too angry anymore? "I am ridden with guilt." He said finally, sighing as his confession sunk in.

"Nay, it is I my friend who is shamed with guilt. I have spoken harshly against the King. For that I am sorry."

"No my Lady, you have spoken harshly with your friend whom you trusted and I betrayed that trust. I deserve your anger." He glanced over at her, smiling at the way she looked unkempt. It was a rare and beautiful sight.

"You did what you thought was right. And I am sure things will work out fine."

The King frowned. He heard her doubt clearly in her voice. She did not believe a word of it. "Your pain runs deep for what I have done."

"Nay My Lord."

"I am not your Lord Enelya, Legolas is now." His voice sounded tired, disappointed. But she did not dwell on it but instead forced herself to move by his side. Thranduil cast a side-glance at the maiden. She looked unusually anxious. Reaching for her hand, he pulled it close to his chest. "I need to hear that you forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, but I need your pardon."

"It is yours, always it is yours." She smiled softly, pulling closer to him. "Let us not fight. Let us promise right now that we will never fight." He felt laughter pour through his chest. She raised an eyebrow at his response and sighed dully. "Yes, you are right. That could never happen. Even right now I want to smack you over the head." And then a sweet smile of her own appeared, smoothing out the tension between them. "I am to be your son's concubine," she said, the words sinking in.

"Aye, and you are fine with this?"

Her dream hit her abruptly, reminding her of all the hidden truths she felt. Was she fine with being what she thought was a royal whore? Was she ready to give away her dreams to be a source of sexual pleasure to one elf that could not, and was forbidden to love her? Paling, she looked at him yet could not find her voice.

The King noticed this and felt concerned. "You look ill? Is all well? Are you not fine with this?"

"All is well my Lord." She said calmly, pulling her gaze from his. "I'm not exactly happy with the planned events, but I," she breathed in deeply, "I...trust you." Indeed all was not well. He looked beautiful and her flesh acknowledged it. How could she live in his Kingdom fighting this urge every day while still managing to please his son? The tension pulled at her thighs and she decided the best thing was to return to her bed, away from the King. "I must go. I bid you good night."

"Are you upset with me?" He asked brusquely, reaching for her hand to keep her near. Blessed light, how often this maiden's moods changed.

Enelya visually jerked, making Thranduil lift a perfectly arched brow.

She slowly turned to him, finding herself in a déjà vu of her dream. "Upset, my Lord?"

The King fought his concern now, watching the way she chewed her bottom lip. "Are you sure you are alright, my child?"

My child? Enelya felt her heart fumble. Of course he thought of her as a child. Suddenly she felt great shame and foolishness. How silly of her to even have any notions. He was Thranduil, a great Lord among Middle Earth, and here she was, a young child, lusting after what wasn't hers. With an inner smirk, she hoped that Legolas was exactly like his father in looks, how could she be disappointed with that?

Still noticing his concerned stare, she smiled the best she could, "Aye, my Lord, all is well." And perhaps, it would be. "Good night."

And alas the King of Mirkwood was alone again, left to ponder what Enelya was so clearly keeping from him.

* * *

The next morning came too soon Enelya thought with great dismay. The morning filtered into the room, dull and gray. _Appropriate, _she thought as she remember the day's events. Today she was to rid herself of her life she so loved, and travel with the King to a place she did not know to please a prince she never met. Groaning, she pulled herself out of bed, letting the cold air assault her senses. Immediately she noticed a jar with a purple substance on the floor next to her door. She crossed the room, smiling as she realized it was perfume. A warm feeling enveloped her as she read the note sitting against it.

_A useless item for someone so beautiful anyways, but the King suggested it nonetheless. _

She laughed despite herself. She was thankful for the perfume, which she intended to pour into her bath as soon as she thanked her father. Entering the main room of the cabin she found both elves standing shoulder to shoulder with an expression she could not decipher.

"Good morning my daughter." Duramin said formally. Despite the polite formalities Enelya could still hear the hesitation in her father's voice. Guilt weighed her down, remembering her harsh words the night before. The King warned her about leaving on bad terms, and thus, she decided it would be best to seek forgiveness before she took her leave.

Playing along she straighten her back and nodded her head in respect. "Good morning my father," and with a small bow towards Thranduil she murmured, "my King."

Pleased, the King continued the traditional proposal one received for such a position the morning of their journey. It was a pointless tradition Enelya thought, but charming at the least.. "Today you have been selected as royal concubine to Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. This is a great honor to be bestowed. You, lady of grace and beauty, will become esteem lady of the court and reside in the great halls of Mirkwood's caves. Do you accept such an honor I have imparted upon you?"

Ignoring the slight tug at her heart, she smiled, ready to accept what the Valar had orchestrated. She would accept this fate, honor her father, and be held in high respect from her kind for doing so. "May I return the grace you have shown me with such an offer. I accept this role you have bestowed, and will do well to please your son." She looked at the ground, feeling her fate sealed with every passing word.

The King felt a great conflict rise abruptly in his chest. He was pleased, and yet he realized the great pain his friend was accepting. She was truly the most amazing creature, so unlike the other maidens in her age. Tradition always held a place in his heart, and for her to go along was such a strange blessing.

"Then I bid you to accept this gift of perfume that I offer my only daughter, royal concubine if the Prince shall have her. May it sweeten your soul, and bring peace where you find turmoil." Her father's voice seemed proud, and if anything, that made it all worth it.

The King stepped forward, holding a box that she did not notice before. It was a special box, large and heavy; made of white wood that had intricate carvings of flowers and vines. She looked at the King hesitantly, wondering what gift he had to offer in such a package. "And I bid you my friend," he held her gaze, letting his term of friend warm her, "to accept this gift of mine, royal concubine to the Prince if my son will have you."

Raising a brow she took the box, seeing the smile on her father's face. Opening it carefully, she was met with a white, simple gown, adorn with no jewels, but held a simple beauty of the ancient days. "My Lord?"

Her father stepped forward too, this time, reaching out to cup his daughter's face. "A white gown to represent the innocence you possess my love. A perfect gift for the Prince of Mirkwood."

Innocence. Did innocence have such erotic dreams? She felt a darker thought circling at the rim of her mind, but she pushed it deeper down. She felt guilty, but nodded anyway. "It is lovely, and you have my gratitude."

The King noticed the look that passed her eyes at her father's words. He was reminded by her strange behavior the night before. What did his friend keep from him? What was she hiding? "I'll have you know that this is the very gown my wife wore the day she was binded to me."

Enelya froze. What? He couldn't possibly give it to her. That was simply too much. "No, no, no. I cannot take this, my Lord, you must take it back!" She pushed the box back towards the King.

"You are not grateful?" He asked, surprised at the refusal.

She looked perplexed. Was he crazy? Did he actually expect her to accept such a gift so easily? "Not grateful? I am more grateful than I have ever been, but a gift of such value I cannot accept, surely you must understand this? This feels more appropriate for your son's bride, not a concubine."

He sighed. "All I understand is that you are indeed the most headstrong elf I know." Why was she so stubborn all the time? But despite himself, he felt proud at the way she held her own. Biting down his smile, he forced his voice to be demanding and firm. "You will accept it."

"Forgive me for I cannot." came the curt reply.

He felt a certain pride swell at the way her words were concise, firm and clear. As though she spoke with authority that both of them knew she did not possess.

"My friend," he began, slowly, unsure on what angle to take. "I would not offer it if I did not think you could match her beauty. She would have loved you dearly if she had the chance to meet you, and I am sure she would offer it as well. You were made fit for a queen." She looked down at the ground, but Thranduil place a hand under her chin, gently coaxing her to look at him, "Let's pretend, you and I, that for once you are a queen, and you are more beautiful than any star."

Slowly, Enelya smiled, her old self-coming through. "Are you saying that I am generally an ugly elf?"

"Of the most horrible kind." And with that, the two friends laughed as though no tension had ever passed between them. Her father merely shook his head, amused at their behavior. He would miss watching the two banter.

"Alright, I will accept such a gift, and I will demand you to refer to me as Queen Enelya, for a day." She placed a hand on her hip, tilting her chin in only a pompous way that she could get away with.

He lifted a brow. "Demand?" Surely she would not demand from her King?

"Do queens not demand their kings?" Duramin asked sarcastically.

Thranduil snorted. "Please, a queen is a woman after all. Do not all she-elves try to demand their husbands around?"

Enelya rolled her eyes and pointed at the bucket next to the front door. "Please, good sir, I expect my bath drawn." She pushed the jar of perfume into Thranduil's hands. And flipped her dark hair behind her shoulders.

Amused the King started to hand the jar back. "And if I refuse?"

"You will not." She said tersely. Starting to retreat back to her room.

"Pray tell my child, why is that?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I will have your head."

"It would look lovely above the fireplace dear." Duramin added absently.

The Elfking snorted. "And whom will behead me for you?"

"I will." She said as though it was common sense.

"You have some skills in this area mountain elf?"

She smirked, pausing at her door. "Lets just say I am a woman of many talents," her father laughed heartily agreeing. "Now," She straightened her back and pointed again towards the bucket, "my bath or your lovely head."

* * *

T.B.C.

hope all is well with you. thanks for your reviews.

-blurr


	3. Interlude

**The King**

Chapter Three: _Interlude_

by blurr

* * *

The tension could have suffocated her.

She was sure it would if it weren't for the open sky and expanse of endless land laid before them. She could feel the fresh air upon her skin and she was thankful for it. Traveling with the King was an odd experience at best. Despite all her efforts, the erotic dream of the King tipped her mind in a constant state of curiosity. She would find herself slightly looking his way to study his profile. He was a fine elf, good looking even in their standards. His boyish charm was overwhelmed with an overall aged wisdom creating this essence that many revered.

Why hadn't she noticed before? Why all of sudden this attraction? She couldn't even begin to imagine what his son must look like, and somehow she really didn't care.

She could almost still feel his touch on her thigh from her dream, his warm breath on her neck, his eyes burning her skin, it was simply too much. She wondered, looking at his hands, if they would feel as callous as her dream made them out to feel, or would they be soft and tender? Had she not felt the King's hands before? She moaned inwardly, she had never been one to think such thoughts, what was wrong with her?

However, Enelya was hardly in the mood to dwell over dreams. In fact, she felt a sense of dread come with the thoughts.

She shouldn't be thinking these things.

Instead she put her brush with sexual tension aside and tried to focus on something interesting in the distance. The mountains slowly were reduced from gods to small hills in the distance, and somehow Enelya felt her courage diminish as well. Every trot of the horse brought her closer to her cage, or rather cave as it were in Mirkwood. Underground, banished from the warm embrace of the sun. How could she live like that?

She glanced over at the King, the force she had known since she was introduced to the world. How could such a being be confined to the halls of Mirkwood, below in a still darkness?

It was sad indeed.

Her love for the mountains and open skies felt as though they were slipping through her fingers.

They rode for hours with little conversation. When they did speak it was curt small words that held no real value for either party. Enelya was simply too engrossed with what she was feeling, or rather, not feeling. She was overwhelmed to the point where she had an eerie calmness that even surprised her. She always tended to be slightly dramatic. She hadn't shed any tears while leaving her father. Instead she bid him farewell quietly, with a sense of peace, and placed a kiss on his brow. He on the other hand smiled proudly despite his numerous tears and blessed her on her way.

"You are my greatest blessing," he had said, "I am grateful that my Prince will have that same blessing." She hadn't known what to say to that, so instead she nodded, turned on her heel, and left the only home she knew.

It was a numb realization that she was leaving him, she decided. But hadn't he given her away? She reminded herself that she wasn't leaving her father; she was searching out the path he provided for her. This is what he wished for. She was honoring him, wasn't she? Yet somehow the satisfaction of being an obedient daughter left her insecure and questioning. Perhaps the shock of it was too overwhelming. She knew by nightfall she would be feeling homesick, and somehow the realization of that alone seemed to make her feel even more numb. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of thoughts and instead dwelled on the silence the forest seemed to be humming.

"Enelya?" The King asked, breaking the tense silence just before the sun settled over the horizon. He had noticed out of the corner of his eye the frown on her face. What was she thinking? Was she still upset with him? Enelya looked over to him, his horse being only a few feet away. The day was slowly fading, but with their eyes they could still make each other out quite clearly. "I felt it necessary to give thanks." He said when he noticed he had her full attention.

She raised a brow at that comment. He was thanking her, for what? "Honestly my friend, what have I done to merit gratitude from a great King such as yourself?" She smirked.

"You flatter me." He mumbled dryly. "You are to be my son's lover, are you not? What more have I wanted for Legolas than to have the companionship of the mountain elf that I am so fond of. For that I am thankful and in your debt, my lady."

"My queen." She reminded him.

He laughed, "Indeed, how I had forgotten our deal. All this time I have been riding with a queen and I have yet to be a faithful servant. Forgive me?"

"Forgive me, _my queen_." She corrected.

"Sorry." He cleared his throat dramatically. "Forgive me, _my queen_."

"I will allow you keep your head this time, but perhaps I shall take a finger or two for the insult." She smiled at the thought.

"My hands are not for your touching." Enelya gave him a strange look. He wondered about it, but said nothing.

For a long awkward moment, a strange silence settled before them. But finally, Enelya's spoke ever so softly, "Did I have a choice in this arrangement?" Her words were barely audible, but he heard them nonetheless and it tore at his heart. Did she really view him so harsh and demanding?

"You know that you always have a choice with me Enelya." He smiled sardonically towards her, pushing aside the sting her words brought. "Did you honestly believe I would have pushed this arrangement on you?"

"Nay, my friend, I just," She stopped when her horse made a grunt. Sighing, she shrugged and surrendered the truth she held deep down, "I would not want to displease you, my King. That is all I seem to accomplish of late."

He smiled at her words. No matter the tension and problems between them, she was always the faithful friend. "Child, you yourself are pleasing to me, thus never could you displease me," and as an after thought he added, "nor my son for that matter."

"Ah, your son," she smirked ever so slightly, "is he one easily pleased?" Thranduil wasn't sure if she wanted an answer, so he kept his mouth shut and waited for her to continue. "Yes, would I know for sure that I would not displease him I would be more at ease."

Ah, so this was the secret truth she held so deep from him. Was this what she was hiding all along? "Is this what troubles you so Enelya? If it is ease you desire, please, by all means, my lady, help yourself to my medicine pack and find the herbs to your suiting."

She narrowed her eyes at the King and snorted, quite unlady-like. "I said ease," she paused thoughtfully, "I do not wish to pass out." He watched with amusement as she smiled brilliantly and laughed, "Though it does have its appeals at the moment. Hand me these herbs you speak of."

"It's a fine line if you ask me." The King stated.

"Then it is well that I did not ask." Came the absent reply.

"But I am a king of elves," he straightened his back and waved absently to the forest around them as if the mass trees were under his authority as well, "does not my word create day into night?" Clearly he was amused by her antics- it annoyed her greatly.

"Do not pull rank on me, Sire. Bid the day as a night and it will still be day despite your word. Will the sun stop shining to please you? You are but a silly elf with a crown. Your authority is limited to your faithful followers. I would believe the sun is its own Lord, your will is of no consequence to him."

Thranduil placed a hand over his heart to feign hurt. "Your words are harsh. Does the sun wish to displease me then? It is well then that I prefer the moon then, she is a lady of caliber, perhaps you could learn a thing or two from her grace."

"I am sure your limits do not include the obedience of the moon either." Came the dry response. And then she added with a slightly louder voice, "And I am graceful!"

"Does my limits not merit your obedience as well? As your authority I would ask for more respect, mountain elf." She sighed at him.

"My father may be of Mirkwood decent but I am a child of the mountains, I am not your subject. My mood is harsh thus you are stung with my sting of a tongue. Please, pardon my words." She smiled sarcastically for his sake. "I do not wish to dis-"

"-Displease me, I know." Thranduil finished for her with another wave of his hand. "Will you continue this foul mood for long? I do not want you meeting the prince in this fashion for you may not be my subject, but he will be your Lord."

She ran a hand through her dark locks and moaned, reminding him of her youthfulness. "I am uncomfortable, this horse is stubborn, the air has a strange feeling about it," she glanced his way with a distant look and he wondered if she even saw him at all, "and I am leaving the only life I know for a sense of honor that I am not sure I believe in." Her words barely came out more than a whisper. The King nodded at her verbal expression, accepting the state of mind she was in. She was a map yet to be studied he decided. It was during moments like that he wished to continue deeper into her thoughts, but he coldly realized it was not his place to do so.

"Your son," she asked, steering the conversation back to the source of her unease. "What is he like?"

Thranduil thought for a moment. "He is much like yourself. Opinionated, idealistic, a dreamer, yet in the end he abides by the obedience of his title. He performs his role with great sacrifice such as marriage and court life."

"What role is that? The Prince of Mirkwood?" She asked, curious at the nobleness his son seemed to possess.

"Nay, he is my son," his tone was more serious than she had heard him speak before, "always my son first. This is the burden he must bear."

"I believe it would be an honor to be your child. I am sure it is a burden he wears proudly." She said in hopes to ease his heart. Thranduil smiled tightly.

"He has accepted his crown and duty yet I fear my demands are what he strives to meet." In a rare moment of honesty, even with her, he added, "Perhaps I push him too hard."

"He does not wish to displease you either, there is nothing wrong with that." Enelya said softly, wishing to end the conversation.

"I know he longs for something more, something I do not know how to grant him. Something that I hope you can." At her confused look he continued, "Surely, mountain elf, your unconfirmed ways will seduce my son. He has built himself a wall that neither I, nor anyone else can break through. I trust your mystic ways will mystify even the Prince of Mirkwood and he will allow you through that wall." And with dread he whispered, "Perhaps you can do what I could not."

"And what is that exactly?" She whispered back, sobered at his tone.

"Comfort his heart."

"Is it my place? What of his future bride?"

Thranduil gave her a stern look. "Do not doubt the task I have laid before you. I know my son as I know you. Your place is by his side, wife or not."

Suddenly Enelya viewed the arrangement differently. Concubine or not, she had always longed to meet the son of her dear friend. Perhaps she could get past the circumstances and see the Prince how he was meant to be seen. She did not fully understand why the Prince needed comfort, but could she not give it to him nonetheless? But then the logical part of her mind fought back screaming the injustice. What about her dreams? Her opinions? Her ideals?

"I never thought myself as idealistic." She voiced out loud at her last thought.

Thranduil smirked. "Of course you would say that child, for it is idealistic to think so."

She laughed, lifting the tension off both of their shoulders. "It is well to travel with you my friend, for what better company could I have?"

"Why, am I not just a silly elf with a crown?" He asked, mocking her choice words from earlier.

"Ah, but you are my silly elf with a crown. Created by the Valor for my entertainment. Now please, as queen for a day as you promised, I bid you to tell me all the secrets of this great prince so that I might be at ease without the aid of your herbs."

Thranduil tried to resist rolling his eyes. "He is the finest commodity in all of Mirkwood my lady, rest assure."

He was pleased at the fit of laughter he provoked from her. "Please, are not all elves attractive? Surely I am not troubled by his looks."

"Pray tell, how many elves have you encountered before Enelya?" He watched as she smile fell.

She frowned. Obviously it was not many. "Well, I suppose very few," and then she added quickly, "but all attractive nonetheless."

"Why, my lady," He grinned, "I will take that as a compliment."

She sighed, "Can your ego even fit in the caves of Mirkwood, my Lord?"

"Mountain elf, I shall harbor no more insults from you." He gave her side glance, "Nor compliments for I am not sure of your honesty when you do feel so incline to compliment me."

Now it was her turn to feign hurt. "Are you always so difficult? I do not speak folly, and it is foolish for you to think so. No more arguments between us, I grow weary of your antics."

"Is it possible for us to speak without arguing?" He asked with a dry look.

She thought a moment with a small smile, a finger on her lip. "Nay, my Lord, I suppose we cannot I suggest we reside in silence and let that be our truce."

"Aye," The King sighed tiredly, "Shall we set up camp for the night in this so called truce?"

She nodded in response. And so the silence of the forest dwelled between the two companions as they made their way to a small clearing to set up camp.

But there, in the cold night as Enelya watched the wind tug at the tips of the tree tops did she feel the darkness inching closer. Everything could come undone if anyone knew the ugly truth that resided deep inside.

* * *

They traveled for many days, jesting, laughing, and soon, Enelya forgot everything except the forest and the King. They went into a steady routine, riding for hours and only resting when the moon graced the sky. Then they would find a clearing in the patch of trees to star gaze.

Enelya enjoyed those moments the most. The King would often, as he had always done since she was little, tell stories. Stories of battles, war, of Mirkwood, of her father and mother before she was born, and at rare moments, of his son. She learned a lot about Legolas in the last few days. The more she heard of him, the less her anxiety was. Curiosity slowly crept over her fears and she strangely desired to meet the Prince and learn of his burden from himself. The strangest of things occurred however; a deep respect developed in her heart for the prince, without even meeting him. She revered his obedience, his loyalty to his father and crown. To pick up his grief everyday and bear hardships for a cause that she didn't quite understand made her respect him even more.

She decided then, not to judge Legolas in any shape or form. She could not hold bitterness against him, for he had nothing to do with her circumstances. Nothing the King said made her doubt the kindness of the Prince, she was sure he would be gentle towards her. This made her smile, if he was anything like the King at all, she was sure she could handle him.

The days were long, longer than usual and Enelya wondered if indeed the sun did wish to please the King, and paced his course slower so that the two may enjoy the warm rays longer. Silently she thanked the sun for stealing her more time until she had to meet the Prince.

Yet, her thanks went unsaid as the King looked over at her with a brilliant smile. "My Lady, look yonder and see the entrance of Mirkwood."

Despite her subtle eagerness to meet the prince, when Enelya looked, her heart fell. Her time with the King was over, and once again, she would have to hand him back to his people. After all, he was not for her.

* * *

The light threw her off the most.

She had expected to descend into darkness, but the halls of his court were lit with thousands of torches. She lost count after the first two steps inside. He kept his arm secured around hers, making comments here and there, pointing out things as they went by. She nodded absently, letting his words go by in a blur with the scenery. It was beautiful, that was for sure. Extravagant, elegant, everything befitting for a majestic King, she thought.

An onslaught of elves came passing by, excited to see the return of their King. She was struck at how much they respected him, feared him, and honored him. She watched as the gentle uncle figure transformed into an established King, demanding orders to his servants.

They all gave her strange looks, gazes in-between curiosity and amusement. She was disappointed she had to meet her people in such a state. She was sure she looked like a mess, but it was expected after traveling.

"My Lady?"

Enelya blinked at the curious servant in front of her. She was a pretty elf and Enelya instantly felt even more self-conscious. Thranduil watched her discomfort with a concern look and squeezed her arm gently.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" She asked, pleased that her voice came out smooth and confident.

"A bath has been drawn for you. You must be dying to change into a proper gown!" The girl meant her words to be sweet and encouraging, yet Enelya couldn't help but remember that what she was wearing was the most beautiful gown she owned prior to the extravagant gift the King has blessed her with days prior. The King, knowing this, laughed startling the servant and annoying Enelya. She shot him a stern look and resisted from smacking him.

"Yes my friend, you should change into something more befitting for a lady of court." He put a hand on his chin and looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I can have a servant bring something for you to wear?"

"I would be most grateful." She murmured through clenched teeth with forced calmness. Instantly she realized she would have a hard time fitting in with court life. No more climbing trees, no more washing in nearby lakes or playing in fields. Ah, confined by a gown and subjected to endless chatter. What hell was this?

"You will use the guest quarters for now. Tonight after the ceremony Legolas will show you to your personal quarters." Thranduil turned while another elf whispered hastily to him.

"Ceremony?" She asked. He had said nothing of a ceremony. Thranduil glanced back at her.

"Yes," he said surprised at her look. Did she not know? "Your induction and acceptance by the Prince? We will have a feast, as it is custom to do so. Surely you knew this."

She sighed. "You knew well that I did not, my lord. Why did you not say anything? You could have warned me at least." She refrained from continuing, noticing the shocked looks being directed at her. She doubted they had ever seen their King spoken to as such.

"I suggest you clean up. You would not want Legolas to deny you." He smirked as a look of horror came over her. "Off with you now child."

The bath was well and much needed she decided, as the water had turned brown, rinsing her of the thin layer of dust. She felt awkward as two servants dressed her in simple blue gown with white embroidery, did they not trust her to dress herself? She laughed as they fretted about her hair, making remarks about womanhood and beauty. She gently brushed their eager hands away and braided a few strands here and there herself in her usual fashion.

Clean and impatient, she asked the servants if she was allowed to roam around. They gave her simple directions to some the gardens and corridors. She thanked them and made her way down the narrow halls that were adorned with art and carvings. She was shocked to find a painting of her father of when he was younger; _much younger_ she decided. He stood proud, a gold sash around his waist, as custom for the first advisor of the King. He was quite handsome, and she felt proud to deem him as such. She leaned against the hall opposite from the painting and smiled at him.

"Father, you look so pleased with yourself. You cannot understand my discomfort. I feel so out of place." She sighed when he did not response. "Did you know they don't even trust me to dress myself? Surely I am capable of such a small act. Are all ladies of the court so spoiled? How did you do it? How did you live this life for so long? How did mother do it?" She ran a hand through her locks and narrowed her eyes, "I will scream if they try to spoon feed me."

"Nay, I think spoon feeding was outlawed years ago, rest assured, my lady. But they will try to drown you with wine, as it is custom here to drink plenty."

Enelya snapped her head to the painting. Surely she was mad. But then she heard the chuckling to her side and looked to see a blonde elf sitting on a bench watching her.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I did not mean to disturb you." And then she hastily added, "My lord."

"Not at all. I found your words quite honest and amusing." His smile instantly calmed her. "It is rare to find a maiden disturbed with being spoiled, a rare treasure indeed." He scooted over on the benched and gestured to the empty spot. "Please, sit."

She did so hesitantly, but the warm smile on his face put her at ease. He had long blonde hair with two braids, a trait of a warrior she thought, but wasn't sure. His eyes seemed to be the color of a raging storm, bluish gray with a hint of the sea. His expression reminded her of the King. She sat and noticed that the view from the bench over looked the garden the servants had told her about.

"You referred to Duramin as your father, is that not so?" He asked gesturing to the painting she had spoken to.

"Um, yes he is my father," she paused, "I am Enelya, I came here with Thranduil."

"Thranduil?" He asked with surprise.

She instantly wanted to kick herself. "I mean the King. Forgive me," she trailed off afraid she might have offended him. They all seemed so protective of their King.

He laughed gently. "Nay, I have heard of you. You are the infamous mountain elf who has captured his heart, is that not so? I would be surprised if you weren't on first name basis with the King."

"I'm afraid I am not sure of court customs or mannerism. Forgive me if my speech is disrespectful." She smoothed out her dress and folded her hands in a nervous manner.

He noticed this and softened. The young maiden certainly felt out of place. "Worry not, for it would be tragic if you changed. Mirkwood will love you all the more for your uniqueness. Besides," he continued with a smirk, "everyone has heard stories of the mountain elf."

He laughed at her look of horror. "Oh my, what has he said? Whatever the King has spoken, I swear it to be lies or exaggerations of the truth."

He lifted a brow. "You claim the King would lie?"

She resisted snorting. "Certainly, he is Thranduil after all."

He laughed. "Yes, you are unsure of mannerism of court aren't you?"

She sighed again; of course she couldn't accuse the King of lying in his own kingdom. She would never get it right. "Well, I'm trying only to be honest. My father taught me always to speak the truth."

"Well then," He stretched back and folded his arms, "your words are fair enough then, I would not wish you to disobey your father. Have no fear, the King has only spoken fond of you." He then paused and laughed, "He once said you stayed in a tree for days claiming it was rude to walk upon the ground."

"But of course, do you not hear the ground scream in protest with each step?" she smiled at the memory. "That was long ago however, I was very young and naïve."

"Are you still not young?" He asked thoughtfully.

"I am two hundred winters pass, young I'm sure, but I'm afraid this arrangement will rob all my innocence. I am to be the Prince's royal concubine," she looked at Duramin's painting, "I am my father's wedding gift to the Prince, as strange as the tradition seems to me."

His gaze felt heavy on her and she squirmed slightly, casting her gaze on her lap. "Why do you go along with it so calmly if you dread it so?" His words seemed directed at something else as well, himself perhaps?

"I wish to honor my father, is that so wrong? I have long wanted to meet the Prince of Mirkwood. The King has spoken much about him, I just wish it could have been under different circumstances."

"May I confide something to you?" He asked, leaning forward, a hand supporting his chin.

"But of course."

"Have you thought that perhaps the Prince dreads to be the one to take your innocence? Maybe he too has long waited to meet the infamous mountain elf, hoping for a friendship with the maiden. He dreads the arrangement just as you do," he then gave her a mischievous smile, "I'm sure the ladies here will dread you as well. Certainly you will steal the spotlight for sure."

She laughed. "You flatter me. If I steal any spotlight it will only be for my strangeness. It is only too obvious how out of place I am here."

"What do you know of the Prince?" He asked suddenly, a newfound curiosity about his features.

"I told you, I have yet to meet him."

"But by hearsay-"

"-He is a fine elf. From what his father has told me I respect the Prince greatly, I just have no desire to exist purely for sexual pleasure." She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, "Is it not well to speak of such things so openly? Forgive me-"

He waved his hand absently. "It is refreshing. Please, always speak plainly to me, I am wary of polite conversing with little value or insight. Your complaints are legitimate." She smiled at him, thankful for his grace with her. "Do you fear the prince at all?"

"No, I fear that I will not be pleasing to him, and then what? My pure existence will merit no value." They both sat in a thoughtful silence until finally the gentlemen stood up.

"I am afraid I have duties to attend now before the ceremony and feast," he said with a sigh. He reached for her hand and placed a polite kiss upon it. "Be at rest my lady, I am sure your friendship will please the Prince despite the unfortunate circumstances."

"Perhaps," she murmured with a sigh. "Will I see you tonight at the festival? Surely as my first acquaintance of Mirkwood you will be my guide?"

"Are you really that nervous?" He asked with a small laugh.

"Beyond." They both laughed at that. "I'm afraid my lack of manners will create much discomfort."

"Well then, I will make it my number one priority to ease your discomfort tonight by being your guide in proper mannerisms befitted for a lady of the court. Though I am most positive you will be a natural."

"And you promise not to let me act like a fool in front of everyone and the prince especially."

He gave her an amused look that she didn't quite understand before nodding. "If it is your will but I don't believe it possible for you to be a fool, nor would the Prince mind if you did." He released her hand and took a step back. "Until tonight then, my lady." He gave her a short bow and smiled before he turned on his heel to continue down the hall. She let her gaze linger on his retreating form before she gave another look at her father and sighed.

"Why could he not be the prince?" She couldn't help but feel annoyed at the smirk on her father's face. "You find amusement in my distress do you?" She snorted, a trait more and more frequent. "You would."

* * *

T.B.C.

thank you for your kind reviews.

-blurr


	4. To Meet a Prince

**The King**

Chapter Four: _To Meet a Prince_

by blurr

* * *

She stared, annoyed at every detail.

Any minute and the King would be knocking on her door to escort her to the ceremony and feast. She knew she looked fine, but being in the presence of other gorgeous maidens for the first time made her feel doubtful.

She wore the gown Thranduil had presented to her before she departed from her home. Looking in the mirror, she felt as though she was playing dress up. Her reflection was fine but she couldn't stop fussing. She debated tying back her hair but opted to leave it running down her back with her usual scatter braids. She ran her hands over her hips, smoothing out wrinkles that weren't there. She wanted to cringe at how vain she was being.

The knock on the door made her feel dizzy. She glanced at the wooden barrier, keeping her safe from the inevitable. There was another knock, baiting her to come. Feeling her gut tighten, she made her way to the door slowly, with heavy steps. She paused at the door to take a deep breath before pulling it open. Her grim look quickly melted into a pleasant smile, for it wasn't the King who she had expected, but the gentleman from the bench earlier.

He was dressed slightly more formally in a soft green tunic with silver trimming. He looked at her with mild approval, as a soft grin appeared on his lips. She thought she saw a flash of recognition in his eyes as he took in the sight before him, but dismissed it as it quickly vanished.

"You look lovely." He said after a moment. "Do all mountain elves possess such beauty?"

"I know not." She said thoughtfully. "I only know one other mountain elf and I can say with all honesty, he is more beautiful than the stars." She was sure the gentleman in front of her could rival him, but chose to keep that to herself.

"Your father?" He asked with an amused smirk.

"Of course." She looked away sheepishly before meeting his gaze. "Do you not think so?"

"I must disagree, my friend," He casually crossed his arms and smirked at her. His friendly endearments made her feel more at ease. How could one elf put her at ease so effortlessly? "I believe you are much more pleasant to look at than Duramin."

"Did you know my father?" She asked surprised. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"You could say that. If I'd known he would have such a beautiful daughter I would have kept in touch more often." She dreaded at the thought of blushing but felt the warm glow across her cheeks nonetheless.

"Thank you." She murmured in a soft voice. He never seemed to tire with giving her compliments; she didn't think she would ever grow tired receiving them. "May I ask what why you have decided to grace me with your presence?" She asked after a moment.

He grinned and leaned against the doorway, "I am here to escort you, of course." At her surprise look he added as though it was obvious, "Did you not need guidance of proper etiquette tonight? That includes the grand entrance."

She laughed and leaned against the doorway as well and crossed her arms to mimic him. "Don't remind me, wood elf."

"Have no fear, my lady," he pulled out a flash of silver and it took her a second to make it out as a silver necklace with a single white pearl, "this," he gestured to the necklace with a mischievous grin, "is a magical pearl, or so I am told." At her doubtful look he added, "I speak the truth," he motioned her to turn around and she did so laughing at his ridiculous tale, "it comes from the depths of the sea, I believe it belonged to a great sea witch," she could feel his warm breath on her neck as he fitted the cold, silver chain in place. She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach as his finger made contact with her bare skin. "And she, in her all knowing foresight, cast a special spell over the pearl just for you my lady."

Enelya hid her amusement and played along. "Really? And what spell did the sea witch see fit for a little mountain elf like me?"

"Why," his fingers brushed over her neck, clasping the silver chain with a small click, "protection against any foolishness or embarrassing moments here at Mirkwood, of course. You, child, are free of any misfortunate events as long as you wear this lovely pearl."

She feigned interest in his magical tale with a somber look of curiosity. "And how did you, a simple Mirkwood subject, come across such a fated pearl?"

"My lady," he said while he placed a hand over his heart, "Surely you jest. I am the best archer of Mirkwood and therefore not nearly as simple as you label me," she giggled despite herself and he continued on, looking quite smug. "I have been its lone protector for over a thousand years, given the task of presenting it to its rightful owner when she finally decided to grace the wood elves with her beauty."

"Indeed." She laughed and turned back around. "Hopefully you did not have to face too many big monsters."

"Of the most horrible kind." He said laughing.

Her finger found its way to the pearl, and she smiled thankfully to him. "You didn't have to, but for your years of devotion to guarding my treasure I thank thee, fine archer." She placed a hand over her heart and curtsied, biting back her laugh. He inclined his head, accepting her mock gratitude. "Did you ever find the need to wear it yourself, my lord?"

"Nonsense," he waved a hand dismissively, reminding her of the King. "I certainly don't need it, I'm much too graceful for such a spell." They both laughed this time. He certainly had an ego to rival the King, she thought. "Now, my lady, shall we depart?"

She took a deep breath, ran a hand through her hair and smiled nervously. "Yes."

"Let me get a final look." He stepped back and pretended to regard her carefully looking for anything out of place. She lifted a brow, amused as he made several grunts of approval.

"Oh my." He said in false dread. Enelya frowned, "What is it?"

"You did not place a flower in your hair?" He let his fingers run through the silky locks and sighed. "That simply won't do."

"Is that the custom around these parts?" She asked, suddenly becoming worried. Was the pearl not suppose to prevent these type of blunders?

"Aye, we can't have you flowerless, child, what would the other maidens say?"

She resisted rolling her eyes. "Indeed."

"Let me see if I can make amends," magically, or so she thought, he pulled a white flower out of his pocket with a secret smile, "I think of everything." He looked sheepish as she just stared at him with her lips slightly parted. He was truly a wonder. "Well, someone has to make you look presentable," he added in defense while he tucked the gift behind her ear. "Perfect. All set are we?"

"Is there any other custom I should be informed of?" She asked sarcastically.

He shrugged indifferently. "Let the magical pearl worry about that." He said in all seriousness. "The pearl will watch out for you. I'm sure it is updated with the current etiquette and manners befitted for a lady of court."

She nodded with the same false somberness and latched on to his offered arm. "I am in good hands. I can't thank you enough, I am truly grateful." She placed her hand over his heart and smiled up at him.

He watched the strange action, touched. "You mountain elves are certainly something." He murmured softly.

She chose to ignore his remark. "Shall we then?"

As they made their way down the hall she looked at him skeptically. He was beyond tranquil, with an air of authority too. What was his secret? He noticed her stare out of the corner of his eye and smiled. "Yes?"

"You seem beyond calm," she sighed and pushed a few stay hairs aside, "how do you manage it?"

The gentleman laughed and she couldn't help but noticed how sweet and carefree it sounded. She wondered if all elves were like this. And in that thought, she felt sadden that she did not even know her own people. Too long she had been secluded in the mountains with only her father the sky. He pulled her tighter against him, as if hearing her thoughts. Perhaps fate was making it up for all the years of loneliness.

"It is a trick that I have mastered over the years. The King is fond of festivals and such." He grimaced. "I'm afraid I have had my fair share of them, no matter how dreadful they tend to be."

She made a sour face at the thought. "Are they really that bad?"

He tapped her nose once, making her smile again. "I unfortunately would have to say they are rather dull, my child."

"Indeed?" She fought back a moan. Besides chattering and dancing, what else was there to do at such an event? She was not sure for she had never been to a festival or feast. "I'm afraid tonight will be far from dull for me."

"The Valar has blessed you then?" He asked with a dry smirk.

"Perhaps," she agreed, "I have never been to such an event."

He nodded as they turned a corner. "Then the pearl has its work cut out for it tonight then."

"I have to face the ceremony this evening." She stated, blanching at the word ceremony. The gentleman softened at her distress.

"Worry not," he squeezed her arm gently, "For I'll be there. Your fears are pointless, my lady."

"You are very kind then, good sir. And it is just Enelya," she corrected. "Why waste a title on an mountain elf?"

He raised a brow at her comment. "Waste? You are not just any mountain elf. Nay, child, you are the infamous mountain elf, a legend around these parts." She stifled a laugh. He seemed so serious. "Do not be surprised if you are treated like royalty. We wood elves view you as kin to the King himself."

She smirked. "Surely you jest."

"I swear I do not," his serious tone made her want to laugh, "your adventures are told to children before bed each night here in Mirkwood."

She fell into a fit of laughter while he tried to look serious but failed as the corner of his lips drifted upward ever so slightly. "Are you making fun of our traditions?"

"Traditions? What tradition is this? Am I really a bedtime story?" She asked finally, putting a hand on her side. She made a mental note to strangle Thranduil.

"Aye," he continued with a somber look, "So you will not rob me of the blessing then to address you in such a formal fashion. It is an honor to call you lady Enelya, for you are," he glanced down at her form with a smirk, "certainly a lady."

His words touched her. She never had trouble with the title before, but she never had been in the presence of other ladies. It felt awkward. "I'm afraid I have never been vain nor self-conscious, but I never been around such beautiful maidens before! Certainly they are more deserving of such a title."

He stopped abruptly and gave her a pointed look. "Surely you jest. You cannot compare yourself to the maidens in Mirkwood."

She felt her heart drop. Of course she couldn't. "Why is that?"

"There is no comparison." He said as though it was obvious. "Everyone will stare at you," he added after a thoughtful moment. "You have your mother's dark hair," he ran his fingers through it again, smiling, "it's a rare sight."

"My mother? Did you know my mother as well?"

He nodded yes and smiled. "She was beautiful and kind, and somehow passed all her good intentions on to you."

She looked down and bit her lip to keep from smiling. All her good intentions. The thought warmed her heart.

"But I think personally, your dark hair might be my favorite trait of all." he finished, twirling the tip of some of her locks between his fingers.

"Indeed? Will they think me odd? Some dark beast?"

"Of course." He said, wincing playfully as she smacked his shoulder good heartily. "Alright, perhaps they will, but not because of your hair. I think your strange customs will be the source of their judgment."

She laughed. "What strange customs? I am certainly normal," his look clearly said differently but she ignored it. "Will the pearl not keep me from such acts?"

"Ah, but of course, I had forgotten. Forgive me." He pulled her hand to his lips but before he could kiss her knuckles she pulled back, Enelya realized she did not know his name! "Kind sir, you would kiss my hand before I have your name!"

He seemed amused and she did not understand why. "Soon, my lady, you will have my name and you will grow weary of it."

"Is a name not but a name? How does it change anything?" She asked, not understanding his words.

"I'm afraid I do not believe you will comprehend until you learn who I-"

"Ah, my son, I've been looking for you." A new voice said, joining their stroll towards the festivities. Yet that new voice wasn't so new and Enelya froze seeing her one and only friend, the King.

"Son?" She asked.

"Enelya," Legolas started, feeling her tense up incredibly.

"Legolas-"Thranduil began.

"Legolas?" Enelya repeated slowly. She stepped back from his touch and felt like moaning. "As in Legolas, crowned Prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil the King?"

"Is there any other?" The King asked, trying to lighten the mood.

They all resorted to silence. Finally it was Enelya to speak again. "The pearl."

"What?" The King asked, obviously that wasn't what he had expected.

But Enelya didn't look at him; instead she looked at Legolas in pure disbelief. "The pearl, how could you? It is fake! It did not work!"

Legolas wasn't sure to laugh or explain. "Well," he began slowly, "I guess I should have told you there are certain situations that it even the sea witch's magic could not prevent..."

"Indeed," she ran a hand through her dark locks and tried to glare at him but somehow it just came out as an ironic smile. "So this is how the prince and the mountain elf are to meet?"

"We could try again?" He asked meekly.

The King watched in amusement. The two youth were perfect for each other. Could he not see it?

Enelya wanted to kick herself. She had thought the gentleman reminded her of Thranduil yet seeing the two next to each other they were almost duplicates. Thranduil was slightly taller, broader, and firmer, Legolas seemed much more relax, lean, and wore a mischievous grin. All the same, she felt like a fool at their overwhelming similarities.

"I guess there is no point to get mad is there?" She sighed and could not help but notice they were standing in front of Duramin's painting. How appropriate. She glanced back at the two royals who were watching her carefully, both with their arms crossed. "I mean, you did say you were the best archer in Mirkwood and everyone knows that Legolas is indeed the finest of the sport." Legolas tried not to look too smug at the compliment. "You didn't lie to me I guess, actually you've been quite honest and kind." She glanced away with a grim look. "I had just wished to make a good impression on the Prince-"

"And I am impressed." He interjected softly. He reached forward and took her hand back into his, squeezing it gently, "Enelya, tradition binds us, but I had hope that perhaps a friendship would be your reason to stay."

She glanced down at the ground, unsure. "It is your choice to either deny me or accept me, my Lord."

He smiled gently at her. "While I greatly disapprove of this custom," he shot a look at his father, "I will do everything possible to keep your family's honor intact, even if that means taking you as my royal mistress."

As awkward as it seemed, Enelya was grateful at his words. Yet she couldn't help add with a mischievous grin, "I have no wish to bed you."

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, "Indeed? Boldly put, my lady. Am I really that repulsive?"

"Most horribly," she laughed. Yet smiling sheepishly she added quietly, "I have no experiences in such matters, I fear you understand my dilemma?"

"Mmm, all to well." He looked thoughtful for a moment with burrowed brows and a finger on his chin. "Perhaps then we can just pretend for image sake?"

"Pretend?" The King asked. Surely he did not mean-

"You hardly get any input considering this is your doing." Legolas commented sourly. Enelya nodded in agreement, provoking the King to shrug. Legolas turned back to Enelya, "Yes, pretend. You can spend occasional nights in my chambers and everyone will just assume."

"Should I be assuming as well?" The King asked dryly.

"Assume away." Legolas retorted absently.

Enelya was touched. "You would do that for me?"

"Certainly. Do you not remember, my lady?" Legolas stepped forward and dropped his voice to a soft murmur, "I have no desire to take your innocence or rob you of what you desire."

"But then my existence is futile." She pointed out. "I will become an old maid in your father's halls with no company."

He sighed. "I thought of that. I realize then that your fate is empty if I don't make use of your," he swallowed and looked over her body, "but in the end are you not meant to be my friend? You may still become an old maid, but only if that is your wish. I have no trouble allowing you to fall in love with whomever you wish." He smiled gently, watching as the pieces fitted together in her mind. Finally she smiled brilliantly at him.

"You want to be my friend, wood elf, so I don't have to sleep with you?" He smiled at the endearment.

"Thus making your existence not pointless." He smirked and lifted a brow. "Oddly put, but yes." He laughed as she hugged him tightly. She felt so vulnerable in his arms, yet he knew from the tales surrounding her she could take care of herself. What a mystery she was, he thought. No wonder his father was so engrossed with her. He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying her scent of lavender, and gave his father an amused look.

Thranduil sighed and pinched the bridge his nose. Leave it to his son and the mountain elf to get around a situation such as this. "I will pretend I did not hear that."

At least a friendship was start, he thought. But in honesty, Thranduil had felt a tinge of jealousy, seeing his friend absorbed by his son. Was this not what he wanted? Desired? Pushed for? Even went as far to arrange so formally? Yet now seeing his son holding his dear girl made him question. Would this mean his relationship with her would lessen or change?

Before Enelya could stop herself she hugged the King too. Thranduil held on tightly to the dear girl, before kissing her brow, enjoying her touch slightly too much, he thought. "You are pleased with this arrangement?" She nodded with a hopeful smile. "Then who am I to forbid it? I expect a convincing ceremony between you two tonight however. I will not have the masses speculating. I mean it, I want sexual tension galore."

"Then shall we continue?" Enelya asked trying not to laugh.

"Aye," Legolas took her arm back and they continued chattering, ignoring the King who proudly watched the two with a knowing grin.

"Hah, I give them a month until their sexual tension is simply too much to deny." He said to Duramin's painting- who was smirking. "Two months you say, my friend?" Thranduil tapped his chin. "Perhaps. More time to woo such a tough little maiden, Legolas has his work cut out for him." Sighing, he continued after the pair.

He felt a dark realization settle in as he could hear them laughing and jesting. Enelya wasn't his girl anymore. Was she ever?

* * *

T.B.C.

Thanks for the support and kind words.

-blurr


	5. Pact and Promise

**The King**

Chapter Five: _Pact and Promise_

by blurr

* * *

"That," Legolas glanced pointedly across the room at an elder, "is Lord Orodreth. He was my personal tutor growing up for many years." Enelya glanced forward to see the stoic elf who was sitting rigidly.

"A man of very few emotions." Legolas murmured, amused. Enelya sipped her wine, biting back her laugh. Legolas had been pointing out everyone who sat around the different tables, adding tidbits of all sorts. At first she felt intimidated, eating in front of strangers who all regarded her carefully, but Legolas was her constant guide, laughing and jesting to ease her discomfort.

"Oh, and there, sitting next to him is Inwe, his very available and desperate daughter who is probably cursing you right now as we speak." Enelya let her eyes drift slightly to the right of Lord Orodreth, where indeed she saw a fuming pretty she-elf glaring daggers at her.

"Well then stop speaking and she will stop cursing." She said softly, trying to move her lips as little as possible, as she sat back into her chair comfortably. Inwe seemed to lean forward, desperately trying to figure out what the two were saying.

"I'm afraid it is of no use. She will curse you as long as she has the breath to do so, my lady."

"Whatever for?" She asked innocently.

"Why, my concubine, do you not know?" he asked laughing. Strangely, Enelya liked his odd endearment for her, for the first time she did not resent her newly bestowed title. Enelya took another sip of wine, berating herself in the process for drinking too much already. Yet, the warm, red substance calmed her, soothing out her nerves so alas she could speak to the Prince without any barriers.

In a moment of pure mischief, Legolas leaned close to her and asked in a low voice, "Would you like to see if we could make her turn red?"

"Red?" Enelya barely choked on her wine. She put down her cup and leaned closer into his frame. "How do you propose to do that? Do you mean to embarrass her?"

He reached for her hand, much to her surprise, and placed it placidly on his lap with a strange smile. She eyed him carefully, fully aware of his inner thigh under her palm and whispered, "I thought we had an agreement?"

Legolas smirked, "Play along, mountain elf."

Enelya glanced back over at Inwe, who was indeed blushing madly, looking as though she would explode with anger at any moment. Enelya turned back to Legolas with a look of disbelief. "Your Highness, you are absolutely horrible!" She laughed as he shrugged, and tried to pull her hand away but Legolas held onto it firmly. She pushed the food around her plate with a spoon with her free hand absently, ignoring Legolas thumb casually rubbing over her knuckles.

"Surely you are the most detested maiden in Mirkwood among the nobles." He said softly, almost sympathetically, "Are you not pleased?"

"I'm honored." She responded dryly.

"I do believe it is my fault."

She tried to contain a snort. "You flatter yourself."

"Someone has to" He retorted before taking a sip of his own wine, only to choke back when Enelya pinched his inner thigh. "My," he gave her an amused look, "are you that eager?"

She looked quite satisfied with her revenge. "Eager to tame your ego, my Lord."

"Can it be helped?" Honestly, the Prince had some things to learn. "You cannot possibly blame me for my handsome qualities and charming personalities?" Enelya rolled her eyes. "Blame my father if you wish to place the blame on someone," Legolas said innocently.

"Ah," she smiled ruefully, glancing at the King who was currently deep in conversation. He looked much different than she was use to. Hardly did he ever wear anything of royal garb when he visited Duramin and herself in the mountains. But here he was, washed, combed, and dressed in a rich green and silver, with a circlet boring into his brow. She felt a warm tingle spread through her lower stomach as she looked at him, causing a light pick blush to fit across her face. "Yes, your father is quite handsome, but charming is hardly among his assets."

Legolas laughed, drawing many glances around them. When the King glanced over, Enelya merely smiled and raised her cup to him before sipping. Thranduil laughed at her antics, yet she could not hear him across the room. She was disappointed that his lovely laugh was lost to her ears. She sighed, missing the comforts of her friend. No longer would she have the King of Mirkwood to herself. She glanced at her full plate with a grim look, she was not hungry anymore.

Legolas noticed her expression and squeezed her hand softly. "Dear child, what ill look is this?"

Snapping back into reality, she replied with hesitation, "There are no berries at this feast, my lord." She gestured at the plate with a sour look, "Surely you must know as a mountain elf, I need my berries." She had been a little repulsed at the lack of berries at such a feast, that much was true. Oddly she thought the King would have known better, but alas she would have to speak to him. Completely aware of how ridiculous her complaint was, she was desperate to hold onto something from the mountains.

Legolas knew she jested, but played along nonetheless, "What a dilemma we have on our hands, my lady. No berries? A shame."

"Pitiful, really." She added.

"I must apologize profusely on behalf of the wood elves."

"Would you not merit a solution? Instead you brush it off so casually, I am surprised."

"Again, forgive me."

"Do you always require so many pardons? And in such a short amount of time, my Lord."

A few elf lords sitting around the pair watched the exchange with a fair amount of amusement. The two seemed to never tire of teasing, and they did it so seriously and genuinely. It was a rare tone to address the prince as such, but it was stranger to them to see their prince respond just as wittedly back. Legolas was known for being quite introverted in the last few years, resorting to a quiet ghost of who he once was. For once it was good to see their Prince smile and jest so carefree. Perhaps the royal mistress would accomplish more than her title merely suggested.

Legolas thought for a moment, glancing around at the room before leaning forward, gesturing her to do the same. She did as such, amused at his secretive manner. "May I suggest an idea?"

She pulled back slightly with mock surprise, "You come up with ideas?"

He shrugged. "I am a prince, the title does have a few tasks here and there."

She patted his hand affectionately, "You poor thing, all that hard work, surely you must grow exhausted with all the ideas brewing in that pretty head of yours."

"You think I'm pretty?" his eyes looked more hopeful than she thought he might have intended.

She softened, "Surely you realize what a pretty elf you are."

"I prefer handsome but I'll take it." He kissed her palm, a friendly gesture, but it warmed her all the same. "Now, play along." Suddenly, as the words left his tongue, he put his hand on her cheek, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb slowly, deliberately. He had a strange look, one she had never been the recipient of.

"Now," he said in a low and seductive tone, "I will rise," he let his hand fall and trace the edge of her low collar, "bid the guest goodnight," he paused in a deep thought, as though an idea struck him, "lean forward into me and giggle flirtatiously."

"What?" Enelya had barely heard what he said, instead she was much to aware of the way his finger would occasionally brush the expose skin on her chest, causing a strange tremor to spread through her thighs. "You want me to what?"

He pressed his lips to her neck, and made a soft groan like noise, "Trust me." She mentally sighed and berated herself for feeling like a naive maiden- but was she not just that? But all her thoughts turned into pure amusement as Legolas murmured, "Just a small giggle is all we need."

Amused, she leaned forward into his touch, enjoying his warm breath on her neck, and giggled quite unlike herself while she ran her hand through his hair, tugging softly on of his braids.

"That was a nice touch," he said against her neck while he continued his ministrations.

"Thank you."

He let his finger find her ear, running along the sensitive lobe. "Done this before?"

"I'm a natural it would seem," came her equally low voice. She let her hands drift back up before tracing down his chest. She had a pretty good idea what he was up to now.

He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying perhaps too much her touch, "Now," his voice was warm in her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "We stand," he pressed another kiss to her collar bone, "give our farewells," she noticed more than half of the room staring at them and murmuring among themselves while he let his teeth graze her shoulder, "and escape to find you some berries."

She pulled back from his touch just slightly and searched his eyes. He smiled back at her in a mischievously, making her laugh softly. "You are scandalous."

"Nay," he tapped her nose, in a friendly manner, an act becoming quite frequent between the two, "I am merely creative," he corrected smugly. Then, with the same dark look from earlier, he pulled her up while she giggled a little more, earning her a grunt of approval from the Prince. "Your acting is superb." She smirked as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her close against him.

"My friends, we thank you dearly for coming to celebrate the arrival of Lady Enelya, daughter of Duramin, beloved friend of the King and my lovely-" he glanced at her lustfully, causing her to almost roll her eyes, "-concubine, but alas we must bid you all goodnight. Thank you."

Inwe looked as though she would explode and her father gave her a sympathetic look. A few older gentlemen laughed, while Thranduil stared at the two strangely. Enelya refused to meet his gaze and instead kept her eyes fixed on Legolas, who had leaned forward and whispered, "Escape before anyone stops us." He turned on his heel and pulled her along briskly but smoothly with much grace. There were a few hoots and hollers as the two rushed out into the corridors, laughing when they were out of sight and hearing range. Thranduil wanted sexual tension galore, and by golly, he gotten it.

"We make excellent crime partners." Legolas said, pushing aside a strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. "I can only imagine the trouble you and my father came up with during his visits."

She laughed. "Oh my, my father could not stand us! But do not blame me, your father is truly the mastermind of many dark escapades he put us through. I was merely the victim of boredom and tagged along. But alas I find my friend is now in his kingdom and does not have time to entertain silly maidens such as myself."

"Ah, but now that is my job," and after a moment he added, "and I would hardly merit you the title of silliness. Granted you are strange, silly is not one of your assets."

"Um, should I say thank you or did you just insult me, wood elf?" She crossed her arms and mustered up her best scolding look but it only caused Legolas to laugh more, which she found strangely contagious.

"What now?" She asked, learning against the wall. She was unsure if she was to go to his chambers or not and felt uneasy about asking so bluntly.

He looked hurt, and placed a hand on his heart. "Did I not promise you some berries, child? Surely you do not believe I would give false promises."

She looked surprised. "Well I suppose but I thought-"

"It is your decision." He said, leaning against the wall opposite from her. He crossed his arms, and she couldn't help feel at awe at his resemblance to Thranduil. "We can either spend an awkward night in my chambers," she blanched at the thought and he nodded in agreement, "Or," he smiled slyly, "we can escape out into Mirkwood's forest."

"An adventure?" She asked hopeful. "Sounds dangerous."

"And forbidden, but I assure you my lady, I have some skills with the bow."

She laughed. "Do you now? I would have never guessed. But is it not proper for us to go alone at this time of night?"

He shrugged. "What is proper? Are you not my royal mistress? As if she wasn't convinced to take the trip, he added with a mischievous smile, "There is a lake," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "and a patch of berries conveniently close by."

She sighed, pushing herself off the wall before grabbing his hand to pull him forward. "I think, wood elf, you give us no choice but to venture out for alas, I must have my berries."

Legolas laughed, "Indeed, my friend?"

* * *

The King could not explain his behavior.

He had snapped at several servants, ignored many of his guests, hardly eaten anything despite his famish state, and resorted to an early retirement of the night's festivities. To his great dismay, he was in a terrible mood.

The ceremony had been a strange and distant experience for him. He had felt an onslaught of contradicting emotions. He was proud of both youth, but words could not express the pride he felt as Enelya stood, in the white gown he presented her with, among the Mirkwood elves, looking more beautiful than the stars themselves. Here was his special treasure that he could finally share with everyone else, but that was the problem, he wasn't prepared for the overwhelming desire to keep her to himself when the opportunity to share her came. As Legolas repeated the words of acceptance, binding Enelya to himself as his official royal mistress, he felt envious of his son. Legolas was being given a precious child to cherish, one whom he barely knew. The King felt resentment, for hadn't he raised her, befriended her, cared for her, loved her? Now she was no longer his, but was she ever?

Thranduil felt a wave of anger hit him as Enelya smiled sweetly at his son- was anyone else feeling sick? Everyone seemed to be smiling, rejoicing along with Legolas and Enelya and here he was feeling his gut being ripped out. Was this not his doing though?

He had, against tradition, been the first to dance with Enelya, ignoring everyone's looks. She hardly spoke to him, and instead she had a silly smile plastered on her face, while glancing absently around. This only angered him more. At least she could give him some attention. Was she trying to be rude? He had tried to speak to her, but Enelya would only respond shortly before resuming back to her dream-like state.

He had watched as the two sat close, their heads together while scheming whatever they would do after the feast. He was surprised, to say the least, when she had her hand on his lap. Didn't they have an agreement? She caught his look and raised her cup to him with an arched eyebrow. Ah, so perhaps they were putting on a show for his demands of sexual tension? He laughed at the thought, feeling relief spread over him graciously.

However, his uplifted mood, however, was short lived. To his great displeasure, the two started a more physical display. Legolas was tracing her face, while Enelya ran her hand through his hair- Thranduil pushed his plate away and sat back with a dark look. The king felt as though he could kill when Legolas pressed a kiss against her neck, letting his hand drift to her collar. Was anyone seeing this? Thranduil sighed when he noticed other people did indeed notice this, but thought nothing of it really. Suddenly, Legolas pulled the girl up and announced they would be retiring for the evening. Did he hear his son correctly? Enelya wouldn't meet his gaze and he felt ill. Would they go through with it? Sure it was what he had wanted, but now the King was sure that he did not want Legolas to touch her intimately-ever.

But would he, the King, ever touch her intimately? He frowned; certainly not. She was but a child, and his friend at that! He groaned, causing a few people to glance his way; how did the King of Mirkwood get reduced to a jealous, angry old elf? The maiden had more power and influence than she realized. So, ignoring everyone else, Thranduil simply left the feast and walked briskly to his chambers, ready to snap at anyone who got in his way.

She was his guest, his responsibility, and his friend. What did she think she was doing displaying all this attention to his son? And his son! How could Legolas so blatantly steal her behind his own father's back? He had the nerve to touch her like he did in front of him! Thranduil blanched at the thought. Yes, Legolas did well to overwhelming flirt with her, touch her, smiling at her- Thranduil stilled. Legolas had smiled, laughed even. Sure, Legolas never moped around, but rarely did he display his lighter side so freely and effortlessly. Thinking back on the entire night, Thranduil had noticed the unusual looks being sent towards the Prince. So others had noticed the change as well? They hardly knew each other, yet Enelya had established a bond with Legolas already.

And yet, despite his son's new friendship, the King was still ill at ease. Why did he arrange for Enelya to come to Mirkwood- was it really for Legolas' well being? Perhaps, Thranduil thought, deep down, he only wanted Enelya in Mirkwood for his own well being. But in doing so, he ended up replacing himself. After all, what interest would she have in an old elf, such as himself compared to his son? He was no match for Legolas, nor did he ever want to compete with him.

This was to be his inner war now, a great conflict that he had cause in his own selfishness. Now he would have to watch her from the sidelines, remembering back when she only had eyes for him.

And so, the King of Mirkwood retired for the night alone and bitter. After a short hot bath he lied down to stare at the empty spot next to him on the big bed, willing the night to pass quickly.

* * *

They both sat, shoulder to shoulder on the log, their backs leaning against a tree, dress and breeches pulled up to their knees to let their feet dangle in the cool water. The gentle waves lapped at their ankles, as the wind tugged at their hair. Each had a pile of berries in their laps that they had collected; their fingers stained with the crimson juice. The sun had retired hours ago, and now the stars burned ever so still, while the moon made her quest across the sky. Both prince and concubine had resorted to a comfortable silence, each reflecting on the day's events.

Enelya closed her eyes, thanking the Valar for Legolas; quite an ironic outcome, she thought. She never realized how much she greatly desired a friendship with someone other than the King and her father, both who played the roles of fatherhood as well. Legolas however had youth on his side, granted he was much older than she; he was nowhere near the aged existence of both their fathers. She knew without a doubt that Legolas could never replace the King in her heart, but perhaps he would bargain his own special spot. He was such a puzzle to her. Always smiling, always jesting and scheming- it was a wonder why his father would label him as lonely.

Yet Enelya saw in rare moments the distant look in the Prince's eyes. She thought it odd that during festivities hardly any one approached the Prince, save but a few hopeful maidens. She had yet to meet any of his close friends and wondered if he even had any. When she looked at him, she realized sadly that he seemed to crave her friendship, just as she craved his.

Legolas glanced over at the quiet she-elf. She was leaning back, her back arched against the tree. It seemed to be such a clash in texture; Enelya's creamy, smooth skin against the rough, hardened bark of the tree. Her eyes were closed, as though she was deep in thought. What a creature she was, he thought. He realized that for the first time, he could possibly have a close friend. Unfortunately, his title came with drawbacks, relationships being one of them. He hardly ever talked to anyone, nor did anyone really talk to him. The only girls he had met so far, bypassed friendship for a tumble in the hay instead. He stared out at the lake with a sour look. Was that all he was to them? But then, was that not what they were to him as well- a one night stand? Perhaps, he thought, but perhaps he was just looking for the right one in the wrong way. He longed dearly for a soul mate, for someone to share his every thought, no matter how small or insignificant. He just wanted someone to care.

Yet, never did he find that gracious lover. Instead he always awoke alone, his companion long gone before dawn. He would often roll back over and berate himself for the tears that came with the morning. After time the lonely mornings became a cold realization to him- to the point where he would feel nothing and trick himself into believing he was okay. A deep loneliness had engulfed him over the years. He had slowly became accustomed to his own silence, yet always yearned to break out of this shell that he had never meant to create.

Maybe the Valar took pity on him and brought him a friend in the most unusual way, he thought. Glancing back at Enelya, he smiled. She was currently trying to push aside a few strands out of her face from the wind, her dirty fingers leaving a red smear across her chin.

He laughed softly. She glanced at him curiously He merely licked his index finger and rubbed it across the crimson line.

"Berry juice." He explained. She looked at her stained hands and frowned. He laughed, seeing that his own stained fingers only made the mark bigger. "I'm afraid I have made things worse."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is that so?" Smiling mischievously, she traced his upper lip with her finger, painting a thin mustache, quite a rare sight on an elf. She laughed at his expression of mock horror. "A challenge, my lord?"

This time he rubbed his entire hand on her cheek, leaving an ugly handprint. He pulled back to admire his artwork with a lofty grin.

"Legolas," she complained, making a sour look. The Prince froze. He felt something tug at his heart as she used his name, for few did as such, and he did not request it from her. He watched as Enelya dipped her hand down into the cool water to wash off the stains, or so he thought. Instead, she intentionally scooped up some water in her palm and splashed it his way with an innocent, "Oops."

Wiping his face he gave her a pointed look. "You want to play dirty, mountain elf?"

She lifted an elegant brow. "I'm afraid we have already done so." She gestured to her smeared face.

"Have no fear, my lady, I shall have you clean in no time." And with that, the Prince of Mirkwood pushed his concubine into the lake without a second thought. He laughed as the maiden splashed about before coming up seconds later. She sputtered for air, muttering some choice phrases, before locking eyes with the prince.

"I'm in your mother's wedding dress!"

He shrugged. "A dress can be cleaned."

He felt suspicious when she did not yell at him but instead, smiled ever so sweetly. Oh no. "Don't even think about it," he said quickly, starting to pull his feet out of the water.

Fortunately she wasn't one to obey commands.

She grabbed on to his ankle and yanked as hard a she could, making the log he was sitting on roll forward, promptly dumping the Prince in the process. Unfortunately he had grabbed on to her arm and pulled her under with him.

He held on to her close, pulling the two of them back up. He wanted to laugh when they surfaced. Her hair was all pushed in front of her face. She tried to pull it aside while she scolded him in the process. "Legolas," she complained, "our berries are gone now! All that picking for nothing. You are cruel."

"Hardly," he snorted, "you are just weak, my friend." She pulled at his own hair provoking him to yelp. "All right, not weak, but," his words trailed off as he realized just how good it felt to have her hands in his hair. Her dress clung tightly against her form and her lips were parted as she breathed slightly heavier than usual. She looked intoxicating. He felt a deep desire burn in his gut as he took a deep breath and stepped back from her. Thank the Valar for the cold water.

She narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she smirked. "What say you? Is that the extent to your vocabulary? Can you not think of another word for weak?"

He snapped out of his trance when she spoke and narrowed his eyes at her obvious challenge. "Are you insulting the Prince?" He tried to keep the amusement out of his tone, but failed miserably.

"He is in dire need of good insults." She pointed out nonchalantly. "Apparently, his vocabulary is as diverse as an orc's-"

But before she finished her thought he grabbed her shoulders, pulling the maiden under the surface once again, claiming the upper hand. When she rose, she simply shook her head and laughed softly, "That was low, my friend. You thrive on the vulnerable."

A serious look suddenly came over Legolas. Enelya watched as all the mirth left his gaze. Did she say something wrong? He pulled her close to him again and Enelya found it hard to breathe suddenly. "Are you vulnerable, water sprite?" He asked, as his finger traced her bottom lip. He looked at her intently, making her feel slightly nervous. His breath was warm, giving her shivers. "Do you need protection?" His voice sounded broken, as though it was forced out. "Enelya?"

She swallowed; overwhelmed with the sadness she felt radiating from the Prince so suddenly. Where did this come from?

"Legolas," she whispered softly. Unsure of herself she placed her hand over the Prince's heart. He closed his eyes briefly at the action, and placed his hand over hers. "Your heart, I can feel it."

"And what does it feel like, my lady?"

She closed her eyes too, feeling the pulse beneath her palm. "It feels as though it has been chained down -by your crown?"

"My duty is everything."

"What about the duty to yourself?" She opened her eyes and observed the elf before her. His hair was darken in its wet condition, framing his sharp features. Wet, dirty, eyes closed-he seemed as though he belonged, right there in the lake, as though the Valar meant this to be his terrain.

"I have no self." The words came out bitterly. "I am just a crown, a title."

"Nay, my friend, you are more than that, I can see it."

"I am Thranduil's son."

"And what does that mean to you?" She wondered if he had ever expressed these thoughts to anyone before, or to his father for that matter.

"It means that I am subjected to his will, not my own. It is not about my needs, but the King's needs, Mirkwood's needs."

"What do you need Legolas?"

"I do not know."

"You do." She retorted, getting angry at his lack of caring for his own well being. "You are just afraid to open your eyes to truth and admit what you really need Legolas. I do not know you well, but I know that you live to please your father's demands. You cannot live in this act of obedience unless you are obedient to yourself first."

"You are one to speak. You are obedient to the point of leaving your father behind to be subjected as a concubine. Tell me, were you obedient to yourself first? Is this what you want? Is this what you need? Enelya, what do you need?"

His words stung, she knew he meant to harm, yet all the same she felt ashamed. "I just need a friend, Legolas."

When his eyes opened, she thought she would break inside. He seemed so tired, tired of the loneliness that threaten to take him. Deep from within her she felt the desire to ease his suffering, to comfort him.

"Enelya," he spoke her name softly, "I feel so alone." She barely heard his words and almost wished she hadn't. She kissed his brow softly, and then she kissed his temple, an act her father did many times to comfort her when she was younger. She wrapped her hands around his neck to pull him close into her frame. He was the vulnerable one, she thought, as he held on to her tightly. Under his facade, he was just a broken elf, alone and hurting. She silently thanked the King for bringing her to Mirkwood despite all her objections.

"Legolas, listen to me," she said, pulling back and giving him an encouraging smile. "You never have to be alone, do you understand me?" She brushed a few strands of hair out of his face.

He smiled, whether it was genuine or not, she did not know. "Why do you say that?"

She smirked. "Have you not heard? I am your official bed warmer according to customs. Courtesy of Thranduil of course."

He laughed and ran a hand through his wet locks. "Just your presence warms me, mountain elf."

She was honored. "Really?"

"Aye, when I first saw you talking to your father's picture I was warmed by your sweetness."

"Ah, I am afraid at times I become quite tart."

"But alas, I desire to be your friend all the same."

"Friends? Need you even ask? Let us make a pact."

"A pact?" He echoed, with a small smile.

"A pact. No matter what, when you feel alone, promise you will find me to talk. No matter what time it is, where we are at, or what is going on, you will drop everything and find me, expressing everything on your mind, and I will listen to every word you speak. Make me this pack, Legolas."

He lifted a brow. "What kind of pact is this? You are strange, Enelya."

She laughed. "Hardly, I just want you to promise me that you will talk to me when you are alone. That is what friends do, Legolas. We help each other out."

"Why did you say you just need a friend earlier? What do you need help with, Enelya?" he asked.

"The King is my only friend, and now I lost him to his own kingdom." She said with a sigh. "I miss him dearly, and it has been just one day. How will I survive?"

He laughed at her melodramatic expression. "I suppose, water sprite, that I will just have to make that pact with you if you make a promise to me."

"What promise?" she asked, suddenly curious. "What could the Prince of Mirkwood possibly want me to promise?"

He was quiet for a moment and Enelya thought perhaps he would not answer, but then, ever so softly he said, "Promise never to leave me. Promise that no matter what happens, you will always be there."

She answered without a second thought. "I promise."

He smiled and held out his hand to her, however, she stared at his hand with a strange frown, "Should we not shake on it?"

"Shake?" She snorted, "Please my Prince, surely you know what shaking means? The King once told me you shake on political contracts that you have no desire to keep." She said mimicking Thranduil's lecture voice. "Certainly you do not wish to brush off our pact as an empty political contract that you have no desire to keep."

Legolas laughed, "Well, what did he suggest instead?"

"Nose kissing." She said as though it was obvious. She laughed when Legolas simply looked confused. "I kiss your nose, and you kiss mine. Thus our pack and promise are sealed." His brow deepened and she was genuinely surprised, "Certainly you have had the pleasure of a nose kissing pact?"

He shook his head. "Once again, you amaze me with your strangeness, mountain elf."

"I amaze you? But it was your father's idea! Here," she kissed his nose briefly before he could react, "see, is that so hard?"

"I do not think my future wife will approve of such an intimate act." He said jokingly while he touched the tip of nose.

She rolled her eyes. "I am your concubine, certainly she cannot object. Would she rather I take you to my bed? I think not. Now," she leaned forward and closed her eyes, "kiss my nose." She insisted.

Legolas laughed at her seriousness of the request. For a beautiful and normal looking elf, she was quite insane. "I will not kiss your nose, Enelya." She opened her eyes with a look of disbelief.

"Legolas, kiss my nose," she tried not to laugh as she made the demand. Legolas pulled back out of her grasp. "Legolas! I'm serious, kiss it!"

He laughed and tapped her nose with his finger. "No means no, my child. You cannot make me."

"Who is being the child here? Kiss my nose! Is it not pretty enough for you?" She put a hand on her hip, "are you bias when it comes to noses? I can't be perfect, I know it is a bit shorter than most noses, but honestly, is it that bad?"

He shrugged, "Forget it, I refuse and that is that."

"You cannot refuse! Prince or not, this is a demand that I will not back down from. Kiss my nose Legolas, right now."

He laughed as she lunged for him. "I will not kiss your nose! It is a strange act and I will not be reduced to such silliness."

"I kissed yours!" She pointed out.

"It was your choice, mountain elf." He made a sour look as he touched his own nose again, "I am the victim here, really."

"It was your promise that I sealed, I did it so you have to do it too! Kiss my nose Legolas to seal the deal. Your father would do it, in fact he has kissed my nose several times."

Legolas ran a hand through his wet locks and sighed. "Yes, well, I never said you two had a healthy relationship."

She smiled grimly at that. "It is true, yet it is not the point, my friend. You must kiss my nose. Legolas," she said his name slow and calmly, and taking a breath she gave him a rather lenient ultimatum, "if you don't kiss my nose I'm afraid I will have to drown you."

He looked at her with mock disbelief. "Drown me?"

She nodded solemnly. "Aye. It is the rules of a proper nose kissing pact."

"What rule is this?"

"Why, the rule that states if one should back out of a nose kissing pact, thou must be drowned without delay. Quite compassionate if you ask me. I petition that the traitor should be tortured first before a timely death but the King did not agree. As a Prince, I thought you would have been aware of such laws and regulations."

He resisted rolling his eyes. "I am afraid I must have missed that in my schooling."

"I do my best to impart knowledge to the ignorant. Now," she ran a hand through her own wet tresses and gave him a pointed look, "kiss my nose or drown."

"Well then, it is a shame for I will not kiss your nose." He tried to not laugh as she pushed her hair to the side with as much dignity she could muster before shrugging very nonchalantly.

"Then drown you I shall."

And with that, the wood and mountain elf splashed each other, laughing and jesting into the night- forgetting about everything proper.

* * *

T.B.C.

Thanks for the reviews and kind words. You guys are great encouragers.

-blurr


	6. Longing

**The King**

Chapter Six: _Longing_

by blurr

* * *

Slowly, the great caves of the King's home became familiar, their torches burned bright with comfort and ease. Yet Mirkwood could never replace the great mountains of her home. Often she would think of her father and his cabin, tucked away in the grove of trees on the west side of the mountain pass with the endless blue sky above. She held her home deep in her heart with great fondness. A phrase, a sound, a smell would remind her of the mountains and she would smile longingly.

Legolas came to notice this particular smile and would comment, "Are the trees of Mirkwood not to your liking, milady, why do you long so?"

She would merely laugh and respond, "They do not reach as high as the mountains, do they, my friend?"

"Ah, perhaps then, pretty maiden," he would pause to watch the lovely pink hue tint the apples of her cheek with the endearment, "I shall take you to the Golden Wood where even the sky is touched with tree-tips."

But every time she would merely shrug and murmur, "Not even the Golden woods, my friend, can ease the longing in my heart." It was a grim pain that she had to endure.

But Legolas refused to let her fall into the steep hole of homesickness. It was a strange kind of grief that tugged at her. He would pull her into a close embrace and kiss her brow before murmuring in the softest tone, "My concubine, will you not let me ease your longing?"

And here the Prince of Mirkwood would pull some funny jest, or perhaps give her a foolish facial expression- anything to make the maiden laugh. And she would, sometimes genuinely, other times forced for his sake. But Legolas knew better, he was painfully aware that no mere jesting would ease the yearning she held deep in her heart.

Enelya, aching with the need to see the majestic mountains against the sky, would lay restless in her bed, turning and tossing. The images of her past, of the rocky slopes, of the lush trees, of her father, the burning sun, the moving sky- it haunted her to the point where it hurt to breathe. She found herself dazed with a burning passion to be immersed in her home.

Once, in a pure moment of exhaustion, she drifted off to sleep, clutching her sheets tightly around herself. Not surprisingly, she dreamt of her father, Duramin.

He was sitting in his favorite chair in front of the cabin, a cool breeze tugging on his long braid, the sun was sitting over the hill, beginning the ceaseless task of crossing the sky in one smooth swift path. He was carving a piece of wood as he often did.

"Father?" She asked, as though to get his attention. Yet Duramin seemed to refuse to acknowledge her presence. When it became clear that he would not look up, she asked, "Have I displeased you in some way?"

At her words he tensed for a moment but still kept his eyes on his work. After a strained moment of silence he asked tersely, "Why do you return here?"

"It is but a dream, is it not?" She pointed out, displeased that he would treat her so distantly. How she wished to see him again, and this was how he would treat her? "How am I to control what my heart yearns for? What I dream of?"

"Control your heart!" His words cut through the serene air with like a thick blade. He continued softer in volume, but all the more firmer, "Alas my daughter, it is a dream, but heed carefully, your heart does not belong here, you do not belong here. "

"I do not understand, you are my heart, father, you all the family I know." She yearned for his gentleness, for his touch and security. She felt annoyed with his tone and behavior towards her.

For the first time he glanced up, giving her a sharp glare, "Do you not know? Have I raised you wrong? You and your heart belong with your fate, and your fate, my child, is in Mirkwood."

"Is my only purpose in Mirkwood to be a concubine, or is there something greater at work?"

"The Valar is always crafting something greater than the eye can see. But do not fool yourself, girl, whatever greater deed of fate is at work will be missed, passed with the night for you linger here where you do not belong." He sighed when he heard a soft sob escape her lips, but continued in a softer tone, "Is it so unbearable in the halls of our great King? Why do you cry?"

Hastily she wiped her tears before smoothing out her dress with her hands before folding them together. Her words came out like broken pieces, desperately trying to sound strong and brave, "I miss you."

"And the mountains, and the sky, and the trees." He continued on with a grim smile. "I know. Your mother was the same. Of course she lived in Mirkwood with me, but I always found her looking west to the mountains." Enelya felt her chest tighten, he hardly ever mentioned her mother.

"Can I not return? Just to visit you?"

"And miss your fate?" he asked brusquely, cold once again, "the forest of Mirkwood is now your home. You know this, so why do you wander here still?"

"It is so lonely and there is this sense of coldness in the caves-"

"Eat the cold." Duramin interrupted with a stern look. "You are the daughter among elves, would you shame your ancestors with your complaining?"

"I have, father," she responded defensively, "I have accepted the role of being the concubine as you wish, I-"

He stood abruptly and placed a finger on her lip to silence her. "You have much to learn about acceptance, child," she bit her lower lip in defeat. She felt a growing darkness take a hold of her heart. "Cease your fear, for there is more strength in you than you realize- let those who love you increase that strength. Live your life, choose your path, do not let the day end with any burden on your heart. Be the daughter I raised you to be." He sighed deeply, wiping a tear away from her cheek, "Do you not realize how much joy you bring me? How much joy you bring Mirkwood?"

Her father smiled the first time, placing both his hands to frame her face. Kissing her brow he continued in the voice she knew as well as her own, "My precious daughter, do you know how loved you are?"

"You love me. The King loves me, I know this." She said, almost in reassurance for herself.

"And the Prince. Why do you think nothing can ease your longing for your home? Let Legolas be your home now. There is where your path lies." When she did not speak he sighed, and embraced her tightly before whispering, "do not linger here any longer, my daughter."

And with that, Enelya opened her eyes, to the dark room of her chambers, immediately surrendering to the sobs that shook her body.

Life continued, and, as her father spoke in the dream, she ate the cold, each and every day, enduring the loneliness as the King and Prince were often detained elsewhere.

She would stroll around, taking in the strange pace of Mirkwood. The wood elves amazed her with their endurance. Most elves, to her surprise, lived above ground throughout the dense forest. Often she would 'escape' to see them go about their life made up of mundane task and chores. Often they would amuse her by answering her questions, showing her around, treating her like a long-last friend.

The King's subjects grew to love the strange girl, with her simple clothing and connection to the nature surrounding them. She was not what they expected to be presented as a royal concubine, but they loved their Prince and thought she complimented him perfectly. She grew to love them in return. More than anything she had great respect and admiration for their lifestyle. The wood elves would labor all day with set looks, firm and stable, never pausing to laugh or jest. They worked hard while the sun burned brightly, yet, when the stars made their first appearance, chores were traded for wine and dancing.

Enelya had yet to experience 'merrymaking' but she heard plenty of stories from other servants and court members about the party goers set deep in the forest with their bonfires and laughing. It was a sensual tradition, a taboo subject she learned.

Legolas merely laughed when she asked him about it. "One day I will take you," he said with great amusement, kissing the crown of her head, "then you will see the true nature of wood elves, my concubine."

She would hold him to it- that was for sure.

"Legolas," she asked once, when the two were sprawled out in a forest clearing near the lake, "What is your deepest secret?"

"Mm," he moaned, slightly turning from his back to lie on his side to face her. "Deepest secret? Why maiden, I thought you knew me inside and out."

"Out, surely, but inside? I don't think I'm quite familiar with all the nooks in your mind, would you care to share?"

"I would care to share I would think, if you care to hear what I have to share." The two smiled, a special smile they would share when they were being absolutely foolish. "Alright, let me think," he said, trying to muster up some seriousness.

"Is it hard?"

"Pardon?"

"Thinking, that is." she asked, " Does it hurt your pretty head to toil with such a task?"

Playfully, he softly smacked her arm as she laughed. "Did I not inform you already that I am a pro-thinker."

"Ah, so I am in the midst of a professional, I see. Well then, fair philosopher, tell me your deepest secret if it is no hard task." She grabbed a handful of grass and went about the task of making a crown, tying the ends to each other.

He smiled sheepishly before dropping his voice to a mere whisper, "Promise not to tell?"

She paused in her work to give him what he claimed was the annoyed sister look, "Honestly, who would I tell? Your bride?"

"Who is she?" He asked mockingly. Often he would pretend he knew nothing about his engagement.

"I know not, it was a rumor I heard from the royal gardener." She shrugged.

"Ah, well, never trust someone who deals with fertilizer, I fear the fumes get to his head." She laughed beautifully at that. He reached for her hand and kissed her palm, a friendly gesture that became quite common between the two. "Now, my friend, do you, or do you not swear on the head of our beloved King that you would not tell a soul my deepest and darkest secret I am ready to share with you in great, great confidence?"

"Well when you put that way, yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes." she repeated.

"Yes you'll tell or yes you will keep the secret for me."

She rolled her eyes and tried to smack his arm, instead he held her hand and kissed it. "Le-go-las. Now. Tell me. I promise. What is it?"

"Do that again, I like how you say my name when you're frustrated."

"I think you are stalling," she said tugging her hand away to finish her lopsided crown.

"A prince never stalls, simply waits for the opportune moment to reveal."

"Then reveal to me your heart." Her words came out slightly softer than she intended, almost causing an awkward moment to settle; however, both of them decided never to let awkwardness create boundaries between them. Thus, in a lighter tone she asked, "Or is your darkest secret so dark, that my fairness could not bear it?"

He laughed at her attempt to boast her ego. "Yes, surely that must be it. So perhaps, fair maiden," he said the endearment overly dramatic causing her to giggle, "I will tell you my second darkest secret, so that your perfection can bear it, as you put it."

"Mm, do tell."

A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips, intriguing her, "Do you know of the broach that my father wears?"

"How could I not, he never departs from it." she replied instantly, extremely interested in whatever scandalous tale the prince was about to dish out. "I think if I were to stumble across him bathing and naked, he would still manage to have his broach on." She paused with her crown and frowned in thought, "Was it not a gift from his father?"

Legolas nodded grimly, "Sort of."

Enelya lifted a brow. "What do you mean sort of?"

"Well, indeed his father presented him with such a broach, but the broach he does wear today is in fact, not that same...very... uh, broach."

"Sounds scandalous." her smile was contagious. "What happen to the first one?"

"I took it."

She gaped at him. He would dare take the King's broach? "Does he know this?"

"I'm still living so I believe it is safe to say that he does not. I think I still have it, somewhere…" he looked guilty.

"Whatever for?"

"It was peer pressure, I swear."

"A prince buckling under peer pressure? That is so…human." The two laughed at that, certainly neither had any prejudices against the human race. "Well where is the broach? Why would anyone dare you to steal that?"

"Well," he began slowly, "My friends and I wanted to have a treasure hunt, and it is such a pretty broach, gold and shiny, you see-" she laughed and shook her head.

"Legolas, you buried it and lost it, didn't you?"

"It is not lost, milady," he said defensively, "It just hasn't been found yet."

"Yet?" The crown complete, she placed it on his head, before pushing back a few strands behind his ear. "Do you have a map, my prince?"

"Somewhere." He shrugged.

She laughed. "Well do you have a map to your map?"

"Nay, I'm afraid in my youth I didn't think things through as well. Do you promise you won't tell my father?"

"Of course, shall we make a pact?" She asked innocently.

Legolas tried to shoot her a glare but ended up chuckling despite himself. "Forget it, I will not kiss your nose."

* * *

It had been a long day. The kind of day that moves in a slow rhythm, an endless trance as though it were in no hurry. The sky rolled with dark gray clouds, folding into each other. The elves seemed to smile longer, breath deeper, a comfortable silence settled among the forest, nothing but the sound of rain pouring across the land emanated.

Early in the morning Enelya tucked herself into an empty storage unit that she learned was used during the season to store grain. She often came there to watch the forest. Curled up against the opening of a window, she watched the heavens pour out, making the land swell underneath.

It was beautiful, she thought.

Her skin was soaked, her hair, smoothed out to the side. Absently she made a crown of sticks of and long grasses in her lap, tying them into a lopsided circle, a pastime becoming quite frequent. Legolas had a collection in his chambers that she made for him out of every plant in Mirkwood he claimed. She didn't know how long she had been there, nor did she care. It felt good to sit, to listen, to just be.

Legolas had been distracted the last few days, more so than usual, in preparation of the arrival of Mirkwood's soon to be Princess. Enelya felt a dread pass over her every time she thought of the arriving bride and she did not know why. Legolas had confided very little about how he felt of the affair, yet she had a growing suspicion that he was not all too pleased.

In fact, she suspected that he was quite disgusted and distressed at the thought, but hid it well. She decided her first course of action, when she saw the Prince that is, was to coax him into expressing his true thoughts on the matter. He always seemed lighter afterwards when he vented to her on any topic.

Unfortunately, Enelya found she had to coax Legolas quite often. Their friendship was awkward like that. She was use to having the bluntness of the King. When Thranduil was angry- everyone knew it. Yet when Legolas was angry, it could be days until she could read all the symptoms- slightly more tense shoulders, permanently arched eyebrow, slightly huskier voice, little eye contact- so on. Then she would confront him where he merely shrug, state the origin of his anger, and brush it off.

She missed him dreadfully though. Even though he passed her just that morning in the halls, kissed her brow with a kind "Good morning, my concubine," she felt as though she hadn't seen him for ages. And yet hadn't it been merely a few weeks since she first met him? It was strange, she thought, how close they became in such a short amount of time.

But she found if she didn't dwell on it, it made sense.

Needless to say, the King was probably off, distracted as well.

In fact, he was always distracted. She only saw him during meals, and even then, he hardly spoke. What confused her the most was that everyone acted as though it was how it always had been. This was a new side of Thranduil she had not met. Apparently, this was the King of Mirkwood, the warrior, the leader- not her good friend who told her stories and played in the trees with her when she was but ten winters past.

Enelya closed her eyes for a moment. The sound of rain created a trance in which she let her mind wander. She wasn't surprised when indeed it did wander, and to her father no less. She wondered if he, at this very moment, was curled up next to the windowpane in his cabin, watching the rain beat against the stubborn mountain. Duramin always loved watching storms and rainfalls, a hobby, which he passed to his daughter.

Duramin worked hard at instructing his daughter on just _being_. Enjoying the small things in life. Listening to nature, heeding its warnings and concerns. One instance, what Thranduil often referred back to, was her encounter with ground. Laughing at the memory, Enelya closed her eyes to remember the fond event.

A warm breeze had come over the hillside, moving over the mountain like a stream. One could see the ripple of leaves swaying with the current in a steady pull. She let herself be pulled back and forth, as the tree she sat in swayed along with the stream. She had been there for almost two days.

Occasionally she would hear her father call out her name, but with a set frown she refused to respond. It was only when she heard the voice of the King, her dear sweet King who she hadn't seen for almost a year, did she say, "Here I am."

It was only moments afterwards when Thranduil appeared beneath the very tree she was in with a hand on his hip and an odd smile on his face. "Dear child, what are you doing?"

"Swaying." She responded as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you have any plans of ceasing soon?" he asked.

"When the current stops." She said dryly.

"What current is this?"

"Why, the river of course." She rolled her eyes at his lack of observation.

The King dramatically looked around, causing the girl to giggle at his antics. "What river is this?"

"Can you keep a secret?" When the King nodded, she continued, "Then climb up and I will tell you of this great river."

Thranduil rolled up his sleeves and with his usual smirk began the task of climbing with great ease. The gentle swaying became almost hypnotic, as the warm caress of the wind tickled down his face. Finally he reached the rather large branch with a small crook, in which the little she-elf was cradled in, much like a mother would cradle her babe.

"What took you so long? Do you not climb trees often?"

"Are you insulting a King?"

"Do all kings climb slow?"

"Kings do not climb trees, we have servants to climb them for us." And with that, Thranduil settled himself against the trunk and closed his eyes to enjoy fresh scent. It had been far too long since he saw his little Enelya, the mountain elf who captured his heart. There was nothing she could do wrong in his eyes. She was surely the most adorable thing he had ever come across. When the snow melted outside of Mirkwood, he would always take a few weeks to a month to visit his former first advisor and his daughter, Enelya, who had moved out to the mountains shortly after her mother died giving birth.

"What are you doing?" Enelya asked after a few moments of silence.

"Swaying."

She laughed, "That is what I was doing, my friend."

He opened his eyes again and arched his brow. "Aye, and you have been missing for almost two days, dear one. Have you been up here the entire time swaying?"

She sighed and closed her eyes like the King had done, "Yes."

"Whatever for?"

"Because of the ground, you see."

"The ground?" he asked, amused at her strange answers.

"Yes."

It was obvious to Thranduil that he would have to prod Enelya for a straight answer.

"Why has the ground caused you to climb up this tree and sway, love?"

She sat up on her elbows and turned her upper body around. Thranduil bit back a grin as he watched the young girl give him a very stern frown. "Do you not listen? The ground cries."

"Did you ask the ground what has upset it so, child?"

"Of course."

"And what did the ground say?" He could picture Enelya with her head to the ground, speaking to the dirt as though it would respond. It made him want to laugh.

"It hurts." She paused, in a thoughtful reflection before asking him, "Would you not hurt if someone walked over you all day?"

Thranduil couldn't help but let the laughter flow. So that is why little Enelya has been up in the tree. The girl was simply unbelievable. Yet she didn't find it exactly amusing, instead she, a mere babe as it seemed, glared at the elder elf. "I thought, since I was raised to be nice and thoughtful, to climb up the tree so I didn't hurt the ground. You are not very nice to walk on it."

"Love," he said gentler, trying to control his laughter, "The ground was made for such purpose." When she didn't look convinced, he reached for her and pulled her onto his lap in a fatherly fashion, before continuing, "The Valar, you see, crafted the soil just for you, my child, so that you may walk across it, or even dance if you so desire. It does not hurt the ground, I assure you, and as King, I cannot lie."

"No?" She bit her lip for a moment in deep thought, "Did you ever get in trouble with your father then if you could not lie to hide your mistakes?"

"Nay, I do not make mistakes."

"That is lie." She pointed out.

He smiled. "I suppose it is."

"Then how do I know that you are being truthful about the ground not crying? I heard it myself."

"Did you ever think that perhaps the ground is laughing?"

She looked at him again with a strange look. "Laughing? Whatever for?"

"Why," Thranduil started, in the most serious, informative voice he could muster, "The ground is ticklish. Surely as a mountain elf you knew this."

"Oh, of course." She then smiled brilliantly as though she understood, "So each step I take tickles the ground?"

Thranduil nodded, leaned back again and crossed his arms in a relaxing manner. Enelya pulled from him and settled back into the nook on the branch to let herself be swayed again. "Then I suppose it is not so bad to walk across the ground."

"And to dance." The King added.

"Yes, or to dance."

A moment of silence drifted over the pair, each deep in their own thoughts until suddenly Duramin's voice could be heard calling out his daughter's name.

"I suppose we should go see your father now."

Enelya shook her head no. "Nay, I told you I would stop swaying when the current stops."

Thranduil remembered he saying such and asked, "What river do you speak of, child?"

"Why, the one you are in now." She cast him a critical look, "Do you not see it?"

Thranduil squinted his eyes and pretended to look for the so-called river she spoke of. "I fear I do not."

"Wood elves." She huffed, much to his amusement. "Here, I will show you." With his hands on her waist to keep her from falling, she pointed out across towards the view, showing him the stream of trees swaying in the rippling current of the breeze the down the mountain side. "This river is made of moving air, do you see it now?"

Thranduil smiled at her thoughtfulness. "Aye, I see it now, love. Does this river have a name?"

"I suppose it should, all rivers have names. What do you think its name is?"

"I think it would be named after the most beautiful maiden of all."

"Enelya is more practical I think." Enelya said with a firm frown, causing the King to laugh. "What is so funny?"

"Why, Enelya happens to be the prettiest maiden of all."

"There are two Enelyas?" The little girl asked in disbelief.

"Nay, child, there is only one, and she is more beautiful than any star I know." He kissed her forehead causing her to giggle when his long golden hair brushed across her nose. The little elf placed her palm over his heart and smiled beautifully at her dear friend.

"Thranduil," She asked slowly causing a strange stirring in the King, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course." He asked, perplexed at why his throat felt dry.

"Will you carry me home? I do not think the ground could bear us both tickling it with our steps."

And with that, the King of Mirkwood laughed again.

The memory brought a smile to her lips. But alas, her father told her not to linger, and yet she lingered still. She had to let go, even if that meant just opening her eyes. And so she did, only to come face to face with the King of Mirkwood.

"My Lord." She said automatically, wincing at the formality of her tone. He was soaked thoroughly, much like herself, yet he still managed to own that perfection that came with his title. He regarded her for a long moment before choosing to speak.

"Why were you smiling?"

"A memory."

"Have you been here long?"

"I have." She said slowly, as though she was being careful with her words.

"Did you ever plan to return?" he asked, almost annoyed.

"I have all I need here." She responded calmly.

He nodded slowly, seeming to understand the state of mind she was in, "Of course. What of company?"

"Do I need it?"

He ran a hand through his wet hair and murmured softly, "I need your company."

Concerned at his tone, she pulled herself from the window and approached the King slowly. His eyes seemed dark with exhaustion. "Are you well, my friend?"'

"I am well, I just miss you." He said it almost dismissively, kissing her temple in his common greeting. She felt stung that he would keep the truth at bay. His stubbornness and ego was simply too much to bear at times.

But yet, friendship is not free; it is a burden she would gladly endure.

She smiled in hopes to ease his disturbance. She embraced him then, catching the scent of the forest that seemed to be his aura. Instantly he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Tell me of Legolas."

She groaned. "Why must you speak of the Prince when I am clearly interested in only you at the moment?"

He lifted a perfectly elegant brow. "What does the lady wish to know?"

"Why have you not visited me?"

"I have been detained elsewhere."

"You could have come at night." She pointed out.

"You were not with Legolas?" He asked dryly.

She pulled out of his reach, giving him a sharp glare. "Why such words? You know our arrangement."

He sat on an empty barrel in the corner and leaned against the wall closing his eyes in a pure moment of exhaustion. He looked good like that, she thought, and instantly berated herself over such a strange thought. It was as though he belonged out here, not in the confinements of his home, the strange cage made of stone rather than bars. Out here he looked more like a force, rather than an elf. A presence. She bit her lower lip and crossed her arms, forcing herself to look away.

"I suppose," he said slowly, opening his eyes again, "I just assumed that the Prince wouldn't be able to contain himself long around you."

"Oh?"

"Have you not noticed?" He said softly. She felt as though her heart was put under some strange pressure at his tone. She glanced away from the window to look back at the intense look he gave her. She had never seen him so somber. His voice seemed strange and distant to her, it was a tone he never used before.

"Notice what?" She asked, almost in a whisper herself. Another silence pursued, only to be filled with the sound of rain.

"How beautiful you are?" His voice was gentle, as though not to cut through the soft beatings of the rain.

"Looks are nothing, you know that." She knew that was a foolish statement to make but spoke it anyways, almost to guard her own heart from false hopes. She ignored the turmoil in her gut.

"Then it is well that I do not speak of looks."

She stared at him for a long, hard moment before she looked away again, uncomfortable at the intense way he stared back at her. "Thranduil," she swallowed softly, "I do not understand why you speak of such things. They are fruitless."

His next words stuck with her for a long time, "Suitors will come and go, but to such affairs I advise you with this, do not give your heart away to those who cannot bear it."

She sighed. "I have no desires for such suitors."

He laughed, breaking the tension that lay between them. It felt good to hear him laugh again. She reminded herself who exactly she was speaking to and decided she refused to let any awkwardness come between them. She sat on a barrel next to him, leaning back much in the same fashion as he, but kept her arms crossed.

Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, they sat for a moment in silence until Enelya spoke softly what her heart was screaming, "No one can bear my heart, I fear. I have no desire to give my heart away such suitors then…only to you, my good friend."

The King's heart skipped a beat. Yet the way she looked out the window, with a calm sense of being, he knew without a doubt that she did not mean the implications that could be interpreted. The ignorance of her speech came with her pure innocence that he only felt a deep desire to protect.

"What memory were you dreaming of when I came upon you."

"How we swayed." she said dreamily, eyes closed.

"Ah, the river that only you could see."

"Yes." She opened her eyes again and smiled sweetly at him before looking back over the swelling land.

"That is one of my favorite memories of you." he said softly.

She glanced at him curiously. "Why is that, my Lord?"

"Because you accused me of being a slow tree climber." he shrugged. "I was hooked on you since."

She laughed beautifully at that. Finally she leaned into him and sighed. "You used to come see us often. More than you do now."

"I am sorry, please know that."

"I am sorry too." she replied softly.

"Whatever for?"

"For not making effort to come see you." She stood, leaning over to kiss his temple. "For I have miss your horribly. And you know what? You were right about Legolas, all this time I have brushed the topic off, now I regret not knowing him sooner."

The King forced a terse smile.

* * *

Again her dreams wander away from Mirkwood, only to awake to the coldness of her chambers. She felt ill memories creeping into her mind more often as her time alone expanded and enveloped. Memories of cruel hands and selfish words. In the night she'd dream of the mountains, where comfort would slowly encase her. She felt reality take a cold grip on her heart- she had to move on. She had to find a new comfort. Her father's words echoed hard, resonating within her, _Legolas._ He told her Legolas was now her home, her heart- so naturally, Enelya felt a dire need to see him.

Ignoring the fact she was only in a rather clinging night shift, she opened the door, with a small white lantern, and made her way down the dark hall but a few paces until she arrived at the desired door. She opted not to knock, but instead opened the door quietly and quickly before shutting it again behind her. The figure on the bed across the room adjusted slightly before turning all the way over to face her.

"Enelya?"

"Legolas," she breathed, a great relief rushing over her. Concerned, he started to get up but she waved it off and instead made her way across the room with silent steps.

Legolas watched her carefully. She was extremely pale, but still a pink hue spread across the apples of her cheek. She seemed distressed for a quick second, but suddenly a strange calmness came over her, almost like relief when she spoke his name. Instantly he knew something happened, but the exhaustion evident in her eyes made him think perhaps something had been happening and he just hadn't noticed before. Was she still homesick?

He pulled back the covers and shifted over for her to crawl in. Side by side, facing each other, they let a comfortable silence envelope them for just a moment. Legolas reached for her, pulling her arm across his chest in a comfortable position. He let his hands trace down her arm and back again in a comforting gesture.

"Could you not sleep?" he asked after a moment.

"Only too well." She murmured softly.

The Prince lifted an elegant brow. "Then you desire me that much? Now Enelya…"

She smiled wryly, "Don't give yourself so much credit. I just had a bad dream, that is all."

"A nightmare?" He asked surprised. It was a common trait for elves to dream, and when they did it was strongly linked to reality. What darkness would haunt her enough to follow her to bed? "What did you dream about?"

"The mountains, my father." She said nonchalantly.

Ah, so it was homesickness. "And that was bad?"

"He reprimanded me." She closed her eyes and sighed. Legolas wasn't sure to smile at the thought or to be more concerned. "He is not pleased with my behavior," she continued in a small, meek voice, "I dwell too much on the past and on other places. I am afraid that I must have been bad company since I've arrived." After a moment she looked up at him. "Is that why you've avoided me as of late, my lord?"

"Why would you speak of such lies? You are never bad company." He said softly, taking her palm to press a soft kiss. "Never have I met such a lovely maiden that I am honored to call my friend."

"Don't say that, it makes me feel awful that I long to be else where."

"Don't we all?" He asked, almost bitterly. "I long to roam Middle Earth one last time until I bind myself to another, but alas I am not so blessed."

She nodded, understanding. "Your bride?"

"My bride." He repeated softly, running his hands through her hair as she adjusted to laying her head on his chest. He swallowed, and closed his eyes too.

"I hear she is beautiful." She pointed out lightly.

He smirked. "Did the gardener tell you this too?"

"Does it matter?" He pulled to the side and glanced at her, watching as a few black strands fell across her face. When she didn't move to push them aside, he did, letting his fingers linger as he pushed them behind her ear.

"You, my friend, are beautiful."

She made a grim expression. "Ah, but I am not your bride, I'm afraid." She said, slightly surprised at the disappointment she felt lingering in the back of her mind.

"And you are all the more beautiful for it."

She didn't understand his comment. Did he look down on himself that much? Did he not see how truly beautiful he was, inside and out?

"Legolas, you bring out the best in everyone. I can't help but feel like a lovely goddess in your presence." He rolled his eyes at that. "Surely your bride will be the more lovelier because she is in fact, your bride. You will bring out the best in her, I promise you."

He looked thoughtful for a second. "What about us…"

"What about us?"

He shrugged. "Things will change when she comes. Things between us."

She laughed at that. "My friend, how much can change when I hardly see you now?"

He looked guilty at that. "Milady, forgive me, I do confess I have been distracted."

She laughed again, and he felt memorized by the melody. "You can make up for it by letting me stay right here tonight. Is that alright, my Lord?"

He nodded. "Of course, my concubine. You needn't ever ask me. You are after all my, what did you call it?" He arched an eyebrow and pretended to think hard, "ah yes, my complimentary bed warmer."

She smiled slyly. "Oh, my lord! How rude I have been. Forgive me, are you in need of warmth?"

"Dire." he said, pretending to hold himself to ward off the 'cold.'

"Well then, allow the concubine to work." Almost hesitantly she reached for him, kissing his forehead before she wrapped her arms around his neck and slung a leg over his quite dramatically to make a show of it.

He laughed and tried to pull back but she only clung on tighter. "Enelya?"

"Go to sleep, Legolas," came her muffled voice since her face was against his neck.

"We cannot possibly sleep like this." He said with a small moan, causing her to pull back just slightly.

She clucked her tongue and smirked. "I heard from your father you can sleep anywhere, at any time- such a talent that I wish to see. Or do you have such little faith in us, my friend? Do not move until dawn and we shall see."

"It isn't about lack of mobility," he adjusted, trying half heartily to pull her off, "I just don't think I can fall asleep like this."

"Why ever not?" She asked innocently, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing again, yet her heart skipped a beat and forgot about laughing with his next words that he spoke almost too softly.

"Because it is too tempting."

* * *

**T.B.C.**

Thanks for reading, my friends. Love to know what you think!

-blurr


	7. Realizations

**The King**

Chapter Seven: _Realizations_

by blurr

* * *

Enelya blinked, once for good measure, and then again for the sake of blinking. If she was wise she would have pulled away from him and to give him a nice, long lecture on why they needed to guard their relationship as a purely platonic friendship. He was to be married. Gosh. _He...was to be married! _A wise friend would be blunt here. But she wasn't wise. And then that look in his eyes, the feel of his chest against hers, and that irresistible scent of forest and rain was simply too much so she couldn't find herself saying anything remotely wise- and instead, in a dumbfounded and breathless voice, blurted out, "_What_?"

He smiled at that. Leave it to Enelya to be blissfully ignorant.

"Give me a moment," he moaned, shifting to lesson their body contact. He took deep breaths, and willed his body to calm down. His chest rose, heavy with each eager intake of air, and he ran a hand through his hair, chiding his reaction to her innocent gesture.

"Legolas I-" she swallowed. "What I mean to say is-" she paused again. "How do I say…I am afraid I do not know what I mean to say."

She was completely shaken up with his quiet confession, and Legolas felt something stir in him at the thought. What a sweet angel, she could be at times.

"Do you really not know what you can do to me?" he said gently. This time he pulled her hand to his chest.

Again, "What?"

"Love," he pulled back a little, smirking at the way she knitted her brows together, "I do not mean just me, but anyone. Do you not know the ways of males?" At her confused look, he chuckled.

Was a talk in order? It seemed indeed that Enelya needed a lesson on the ways of men in general. Unlatching her arm from his chest, since she seemed to loose the ability of muscle movement, he began the amusing lecture, "while your actions may be…" he smirked at her wanton position, "innocent," she arched a peculiar brow, "males are wired to respond to touch."

"Respond to touch?" she repeated slowly. At her furrowed frown, he could tell his words went over her head. "What do you mean by _respond_?"

He searched for a better word. "Aroused?" He shifted his gaze briefly down to a certain tender area before glancing back at her and inclined his head meaningfully. Suddenly things clicked and her mouth shaped into a perfect little 'o.' Shock factor gone, she retreated all limbs from his form and shifted back to look at the ceiling. Yet, to his great surprise, she smiled smugly with the utmost pride. She had successfully, yet unknowingly, _turned on_ a prince.

"I did not know I could have that affect." She praised herself. He laughed beautifully at that. How could she not? "I never realized I could."

He smirked. "As odd as that sounds for a woman your age, mountain elf, I believe your words to be truth enough."

"My age?" she asked dryly. "The king, my friend, hardly sees me as a woman. Child is more like it."

He shifted under the covers and grinned at her. "Child? No child is bold enough to seduce a prince in bed and unknowingly at that."

"I seduced you?" Turned on, sure. But seduced?

"Hardly," he lied, and they both laughed, easing any tension of the situation away. "You are no child, Enelya."

"Ah, but only a child could seduce a Prince without knowing, I suppose." She sighed. "When shall I ever grow up?"

Legolas wasn't convinced though. "From time to time do I not call you child? It is more an endearment than a title."

"One I care not for."

"Well, my child," he laughed as she smacked his arm playfully, "a concubine hardly has a say in endearments, does she, my concubine?"

Only Legolas could make the title sound sweet and endearing.

"Your father has no excuse, I am not his mistress." She said firmly. "Call me child all you want, my _lord_, but what of him? He should address me by my name. I think that is highly more appropriate."

"My father," Legolas began slowly, unsure how to exactly word what he was thinking, "he loves you dearly, does he not?"

She gave him a devilish smile. "How could he not? From what I hear, I have an arousing effect on men."

"Do you?" he asked in mock seriousness, yet painfully aware of the ache between his legs.

"So I heard." She shrugged, the corners of her lips tugging into a grin. "What of it?"

"I was just wondering." When she didn't seem to follow he added, "About my father, you see." And then he seemed to let the question out quickly, as though it would lessen the blow, "What kind of a relationship do you two have?"

She was shocked to say the least. "Are you asking if we have sex?"

Her voiced seemed an octave higher and no more than a mere whisper. Under normal circumstances, Legolas would have laughed at the cute expression, but instead he cringed at the use of her blunt wording. The truth was, he honestly didn't know the nature of their relationship. Sometimes they moved together in perfect reflection. He'd step, she'd step with him. He had never know his father to be so emotionally linked with anyone in his entire life. And while his father left often for his friends in the mountain, he assumed it had more to do with the father than the daughter. But as he watched them interact now, he wasn't so sure. Perhaps there was something going on under the surface? The very thought tugged on his heart.

"Legolas," she said after a moment of his silence, "please, friend, are you asking if I have had sex with your father or not?"

"No of course not." He said quickly, but then, more quietly he added, "Do you make love?"

For a moment he thought his sweet mountain elf would erupt with anger, but surprisingly enough she fell into a fit of sweet laughter. Surely she had every right to be a little upset at the accusation, but she seemed to brush it off easily. But in fact, Enelya did not feel 'easy' about it in any way. Did the Prince sense her attraction to Thranduil? And was it even an attraction?

"No," she voiced out loud to her own thoughts.

But Legolas, tired and sleepy didn't catch what she meant, and thought she was answering his question. "Oh." Was all he said, before drifting off to his own thoughts, a contemplative smile on his face.

She sighed, leaning further in the pillow and smiled, forgetting all about her earlier dreams of her father. She was thankful for the Prince, thankful for his patience and humor. But more than anything, she was thankful for his brute honesty. The fact that awkwardness seemed inexistent to them was sweetly merciful, as was his charming smile when pointing out her blunders. All in all, she was thankful to call him a friend.

"Legolas?"

"Hmm?" came the sleepy reply. She turned her head to see that indeed the Prince's eyes were softly glazed over.

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Whatever for, my friend?" he pulled her hand back, encasing it in his own.

She gave him a cheeky grin. "For affecting you."

He laughed, slightly more awake than he was moments before. Kissing her shoulder and squeezing her hand he sighed, "Ah, but your affection is always desired."

She moaned in annoyance. Sometimes he was simply too much. "That is not what I meant."

"Aye, but it still stands to be truthful, my child." She glared at him for the endearment, ignoring any implications with his words. He turned over so he wasn't facing her anymore and she was just as content to glare at his back in all fun and love. He added amusedly, "Just don't let it happen again, my concubine."

She laid for several moments thinking about how strange it was to have her Lord, whom she was to sexually please, ask her to resist arousing him. What an odd situation, what an odd arrangement, but more so, what an odd elf! With a soft laugh, she turned her back from him as well and murmured, "So be it, wood elf."

* * *

Thranduil was not in a good mood.

It was sufficient enough to say he was ready to curse the day he came into the world, and blessed light, sweet waters, and all that crap to the day he would depart. He was in a fussy mood, and he knew it.

In fact, the entire palace seemed to buzz with the nervous energy as a result. Servants were sharper, his advisors bit their tongues, and everyone seemed to refer to him as "Lord," a sure sign of the fear factor. Your Highness was reserved as a more formal greeting, but indeed, today Thranduil was Lord, and he wasn't about to let anyone forget it.

Yet one little elf decided had to challenge the silent declaration. And she would, he though darkly, as the as the _subject _glared daggers at him.

"Just because you are a King," she began dangerously soft, "doesn't mean you can have the entire palace in a fearful fright!"

"They respect me." He retorted.

"They fear you," she pointed a finger at him, "you arrogant elf!"

Thranduil bit his tongue at lashing out, and instead, half amusedly, watched as she continued to pace back and forth in his personal study while she conducted a heated one-sided argument, occasionally waving a hand as if to punctuate her point. She was quite beautiful when she was angry, he thought. Her blue dress swished about as she turned, mid sentence.

"And she was crying!" Enelya nearly screamed. "The maid was in a fit of tears when I came across her!"

Thranduil had no idea what incident she was referring to, but he wasn't about to let her realize this. A king was always attentive. He was merely having a moment keen observation.

"I'll send her a note of apology." He said dismissively.

"You will not," she sighed, slumping into a chair, "You do not have it in you to be so kind." She sighed again, running a hand through her hair, letting out a moan of annoyance as her fingers tangled with the occasional braids.

"You have been in Mirkwood for how long, and you still dress and style your hair as though you were a mountain heathen." He reached for her hair, going about loosening the knot.

She smiled, but then seeing his strategy resorted back to her grim expression. "Do not even think I am through with your behavior." she said brusquely between clenched teeth.

"It is befitting for a King." He said absentmindedly, enjoying the silkiness of her dark locks between his fingers.

"It is befitting for a elf of two winters pass with a tantrum issue. What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like a spoil brat? Is this normal or is it the pressure of the crown that weighs on you so?" She softened a little at the possibility, but when he gave her a look that read, "get real," she screamed out again, "Then why, oh mightily Lord," she began sarcastically, "Are you acting…" she gestured to him, "like this!"

"Do you respect me?" He asked tersely, pulling back his hand from her hair to cross his arms against his chest.

She shrugged. "I don't respect dictators, my Lord."

"Then respect me as your friend." He retorted.

She sighed in frustation. His selfish nature the past few days weren't like him. What was weighing on him?

"Thranduil," she began softly, "You have my love, you know that, but hear me now my friend, something bothers you. I can tell. You do not have the palace in a fright for nothing." She smiled at the thought. "Will you speak to me of your burden? Tell me what is on your mind."

She stood up and stepped over to him, her dress fluttering around her feet. When she reached over and touched his shoulder and with clarity Thranduil knew exactly what had him tense. Her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her soul, her gentle touch, and dear god, how it was certainly not meant for him. It was a building tension, a deadly curse, he decided, to have her so close and yet at arms length. It was time to face the music- this beautiful little mountain elf had his soul, but he couldn't have hers.

"Nay," he breathed, "it is a burden I must bear alone."

Instantly, she reached for her friend, kissing his brow. Certainly she did not realize this arms-length law that his resolve was adamant about. It was a sweet, innocent gesture, but then a look clouded over the King's eyes. One she recognized. Her heart tightened as she remembered Legolas words, _men respond to touch, do you not know what you do to me?_

"Thranduil," she breathed, but when he did not respond she felt panic surge through her. But then she felt something else, it tingled, like a flutter in her gut to an increased beating of her heart. Her cheeks felt warmed as she realized it was a deep desire, one aching to be filled. "My Lord?" she tried again, desperate to have him reassure her she was being childish, but again he merely gazed at her lips before flickering to her own pleading eyes. It was such an intense look, one she could have been lost in, but thankfully he let go and pulled back abruptly.

"I'm sorry, Enelya, I-"

But he was cut off as soft lips pressed against his own, pushing him against his study desk.

When they broke apart she breathed in his ear, "Do not be sorry, I could not bear it."

Her words, or perhaps it was her lips grazing the sensitive tip of his ear, broke his resolve. His hands got lost in her hair as he brought her down for a hard kiss. He decided to take the situation into his control, turning them so her back was down on the desk, and he stood between her legs, pinning her below him. It felt good, finally to have her where he wanted her. Finally to have her respond to his touch with such sweet sighs. A strange passion filled him to know that he was the first to evoke such feelings in her. It was possessive, it was instinctive, and it filled his ego quite pleasantly. Today, he was indeed, Lord.

His hands were sinful, she thought, as they tugged, caressed, grazed her breast. His lips were deceitful, painfully so. He kissed everywhere but where she wanted, until her groan and pleading brought him to his mercy and he took her lips roughly between his own.

She felt the flutter deepen to her very core, and strangely she felt an unexplainable swollen need, aching for something to sooth out her need.

She found that her own hands weren't so nice either, desperately undoing his tunic. How she longed for his bare skin and muscles moving against her own.

And when she felt his hardness grinding against her she breathed in sharply before exhaling softly, "Oh, Legolas."

The King froze, stiffly and the world as they knew it seemed to come to an alarming stop. The two stayed like that for a moment, Thranduil calming his body, as Enelya was silently screaming in her head. _Legolas_? Where had that come from? But then heart clenched as she realized a deep hidden truth. As she held the King close to her all she could picture was the sweet smiling face of the dear Prince. His laugh, his embrace, his words, she longed for him. She didn't want the King to ease that yearning, but she desperately wanted the Prince to. Even more surprisingly, she wanted Legolas to need her back, not just for pleasure, but…for more than that.

What was wrong with her?

"Thranduil?" She asked, softly, desperately hoping for some council.

It was like a strange dream she thought, a surreal situation, as Thranduil pulled back and chuckled a little, almost dejectedly. "Ah, yes, Legolas." He smirked, knowingly. He began to straighten his tunic. Then he asked, with a handful of amusement, "Would you have my son over me?"

"I-" she paused and bit her lip, "I think I would." And then it didn't seem so strange anymore. In fact, it felt natural. "Yes, I want your son, Thranduil."

He laughed, and shifted more off her, leaning against the desk watching the beautiful smile spread across her face. "It is about time." He said.

But what of the King? What had she done? "You are my friend…" she began, disgusted with her actions.

"Uncle, almost." Thranduil inputted, an thoughtful look on his face.

"And I kissed you." She looked horrified. And then, she looked at him with wide eyes. "You kissed me back!"

"I kissed you back." He shrugged. "Deal with it, my little mountain elf, and move on."

"How can you be so calm?" She asked in disbelief.

"Because I enjoyed kissing you," he grinned at her blush and added, "And because you have confirmed what I have always known." He smiled gently and kissed her brow comfortingly. "You were always meant for my son, my love."

"I am not his bride." Was the bitter response. "And I am not content to be a mistress. I long for his companionship, and I will never taste it." She was surprised at her own confession, "Thranduil," she began, reaching out to his arm desperately, "I think I meant every word I just said."

He tried with all his might not to laugh. She was so at odds with even her own emotions, it was sweet to watch. Mean, but sweet.

"I do not see why not. Everything is just fine now."

She looked shocked. "Thranduil, have you not noticed the little arrangement you set up for your dear son?" And then her voiced dropped to a mere whisper as she pointed at him, "It is all your fault! You knew this would happen!"

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Honestly-"

"How could you? Now he is arranged to be married and I will be an old maid!" Thranduil wasn't sure to be annoyed or amused at her melodramatic outburst. "Blessed light, I am going to die a virgin."

Hah. He went about lacing back her bodice and smoothed back a few strands behind her ears with a nonchalant shrug. "Arrangements can be undone. Certainly you and Legolas will need to alter your agreement if you are going to make him fall in love with you."

"What are you possibly talking about?" she said straighting her hair.

But he continued as if she didn't say anything at all as he tucked in his tunic, "Not as though it will be a hard task. You are," he looked her over with a smirk causing her cheeks to warm, "desirable."

"Thranduil, I do not under-"

"Come now, my child," she cringed at the term, especially after what they had just done. But he took her flinch as embarrassment and said sternly, "Certainly we will not have any awkwardness between us. We are both adults."

And with that Enelya could not help but laugh. In just mere seconds he labeled her as a child and adult. The King could never make up his mind, she thought.

Thranduil pulled her up from the desk and set a hand firmly on her shoulder. "You will have Legolas, Enelya, for the Valar would have it no other way." He pushed her towards the door, ignoring her attempt to protest. "I think you should go," he said after a moment. "I need to plan some…new arrangements."

The door was promptly shut in her face. She blinked, before letting out a soft line of curses when a sweet court lady happened to pass by, "Ah, Lady Nessa," she smoothed her hair down and smiled gracefully, "how good to see you."

Thranduil on the other hand leaned against the door and closed his eyes. There would be no new arrangements. She would merely discover that things were just on the path he had set for them. He was certainly in no better mood, his tension and burden had yet to be smoothed out. Yes, the palace would just have to be fear stricken for quite some time, as the Lord was in no disposition to be merciful.

* * *

T.B.C.

thanks for reading and reviewing friends! Wishing you a lovely day.

-blurr


	8. The Private Sea

**The King**

Chapter Eight: _The Private Sea_

by blurr

* * *

The realization in the study had Enelya furious. Furious with herself, but more so, furious with one particular King. She might have some strong feeling for the Prince, and sure he might have helped her realize this, but shouldn't treat her as though it was a game. She was able to avoid him until dinner obligated her to at least be in the same hall with him.

Dinner was quite the affair. The main course of tension was freshly baked into everyone's skin as they watched under hidden glances at their prince and his royal concubine. Occasionally the King would clear his throat to utter some smooth command that would have the servants shifting from their feet and arranging whatever he desired to appear before him.

It was a typical night in the household of their Lord.

Frankly, Legolas was confused.

The last he had seen Enelya she had been warm and sweet. She was curled up in his bed with a friendly smile and open laugh. But now he saw her sitting rigid while taking tight sips of red wine, the surface of the liquid never really lowering in her cup. She seemed to not mind her open glare towards his father. And his father, Legolas thought, letting his glance slip to the elf in question, was smiling ever so sweetly in return. Certainly something passed between the two. Something was always passing between the two, really.

For some unknown reason to him, this bothered him greatly.

"I hope your morning was well?" Legolas asked quietly, attempting to probe into the young maiden's thoughts. One way or another, he'd get to the bottom of this.

She didn't look at him but instead responded quite dully. "It was well indeed, my Lord."

She lifted one angry brow at his father, sitting across the room, who in return lifted his wine cup to her before sipping himself. She smiled tersely before setting her own glass down quite promptly.

Legolas looked surprised.

Was this a mind game between the two? He continued to probe on careful grounds.

"Would I be accurate, my lovely concubine," he started slowly, "in assuming that my father is in trouble?"

She crossed her arms but still did not bother to look his way. "Nay, you would not, my lord."

"Forgive me my lady, let me rephrase." Legolas cleared his voice and leaned forward with a mischievous smile. "_Will _he be in trouble?"

Enelya sighed and shot Legolas a very careful look.

And then, as if her tense silence suddenly disappeared, the built up frustration poured out ever so effortlessly. "Let us just say that your father was blessed with a keen eye of observation. An eye, mind you, that ruins the life of his love ones and ruins the lives of everyone else in their lives. It is a perpetual line of ruined lives all in one neat row all because of his stupid, selfish-"

"-Keen eye of observation?" Legolas interjected. He attempted a frown for her sake. She nodded along in agreement, continuing with her rant.

"And he most be stopped! All these ruined lives depend on the hope that justice will be served and that he will be stopped for the sake of others! He has the irritating habit of prying into other's lives based off what he sees or wants to see!" A few other Lords glanced over at the concubine who had raised her voice. She bit her lip, and leaned back into the chair with a look of disgust. Let them hear it, she thought, the truth will set them free.

Yet, she thought, the truth hadn't set her free. The King had helped her in a great realization in his study. She felt something for the Prince. Wasn't that a beautiful and freeing truth? Yet she felt nothing but anger and contempt for her friend, the King, who seemed to treat the dealings of her heart as a game.

Legolas smiled. So the King was prying into her life too? That he understood. Suddenly her anger wasn't as intimidating to him now that he knew it wasn't directed at her. But what had his father exactly done to her? He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Ah, yes, I have, of course, come across that keen eye once or twice. Dreadful eye he's got. Ruined my life to be sure."

But Enelya ignored him and continued in a hush voice, "The madness with him will never end. Do you realize that he had the audacity to sit in his study and tell me to my face what I should and shouldn't feel? He ego is unbelievable!"

Legolas laughed. "And do you realize that you have yet to take a breath in between words?"

"I am angry! He should not tell how to live my life!" And here she did take a deep breath for biological necessity. "He can't tell me what is right and what is wrong for me. He simply can't know that kind of information, no matter what his ego tells him."

"Was he correct?" he asked.

"_Of course he was correct_!" She yelled without a hesitating a beat. The King glanced over as well as several others. Enelya merely smiled tightly, raised her cup to Legolas while she whispered softly enough for only Legolas ears, "Damn that elf and his keen observation."

"I'll drink to that." And he did.

The rest of the dinner continued in a tight silence, suffocating everyone who sat at the table. However, Legolas noticed, his father had never seemed more at ease. Smiling, laughing, joking, and sending him and his concubine the sweetest looks and gestures. Something was amiss. He was detrimend to figure it out. Tomorrow, he decided, he'd make significant time for his concubine, getting her outside of the caves so he could open her heart.

* * *

The day had come, tripping over the trees and mountains before sinking into the soil. The sun was brilliant, causing a warm glow to touch everything in its path. He stood looking out over the field of long grass, a small opening in between the thick patches of trees surrounding his home. The wind whipped across the long grass like tall, thick, green waves. This was his favorite place. It provided years of adventure in his younger years, a sanctuary of comfort in the later ones. He closed his eyes, drifting in thought when he heard Enelya speak behind him.

"It is beautiful." She breathed out. "Why haven't you taken me here before?"

"Ah, so you decided to join me?" He smiled, choosing to keep his eyes close to enjoy the moment.

"Join you?" She stepped up closer, leaning into his frame. "From the way you flew through that forest I would have thought you were trying to get rid of me!" She playfully hit his shoulder before moving in front of him, greeting the warm rays of the sun with a small laugh. "Slow down, be a gentleman."

"You do not match up to your legend, mountain elf. Do you not fly from trees?"

She shrugged. "Ah, well, I try to humble myself and my talents among those lesser than me." She twirled around to face the prince and grinned. "I don't want to make you feel small."

Legolas opened his eyes and gave her a skeptical glare. "Me? Lesser?"

"Of course." She smiled.

"Enelya," he said softly, "tell me what is going on between my father and you."

She swallowed. What did he find out? Yes, her outburst over dinner the night before was enough to tip anyone off- but did he know more?

"Nothing." She lied. "He, was...well, he was just himself. Being pushy and telling me what to do. I hated that." She felt bad for lying, but tried to convince herself it wasn't completely a lie.

"If you insist." He sighed. Perhaps she was telling the truth, he thought.

"Legolas, loosen up."

"How?" He smirked.

"A-like so." She kissed his cheek and laughed. She ran out a couple of feet into the long grass twirling around. "So high, it grows. I could loose myself in it. Like waves."

Legolas watched her, warmed at her friendly kiss.

"Funny you put it that way. Always seemed like a ocean to me." he said, crossing his arms again.

"Our private sea." She called out to him over the wind, stepping further into the brush. "I shall be a mermaid and you my clumsy sailor."

He smirked. "You're more like a siren if you ask me."

She gave him a lopsided grin. "Shall I sing you to your death then, my Prince?"

"You sing?"

She nodded. "Dreadfully."

He laughed. "You are but an elf! Come, you must sing beautifully. It's practically a law in these parts. Sing for me, Enelya."

She shook her head no, causing a few dark locks to fall around her face. The green dress she wore blended into the deep sea, causing her cheeks to seem more rosy. "Catch me, fair sailor, and I shall sing you your song."

She plunged deep into the thick brush, laughing as she went.

Legolas went after her calling out, "At least you called me fair. Fair sailor, indeed."

"Ah, but you dim in comparison." She called to his left. He smiled, lunging towards the voice only to find it empty of her. She laughed behind him.

"In comparison to what, sweet siren?" He turned around, looking for any movement but the wind pulled at the long straws of grass, making it hard to tell where she moved.

"In comparison to me of course." Came the quick reply.

He turned, confused at how she moved so quickly. Or was it the wind carrying her voice?

"Come now, clumsy sailor, need you fetch your net and bait?"

He stopped for a second and put his hands on his hip with a smirk. "Come now, my looks are bait enough. You cannot resist me."

She snorted dryly to his right. He laughed, imaging that disgusted look she usually had with such a snort. Very un-lady like of her.

"Blessed light, you are egotistical." She sighed dramatically, "Take after your father, do you?"

His response was lost to her in the wind, or so she thought. But then she found herself on her back, the rich blue sky above her, the grass around her, and a sweet, but clumsy sailor, on top of her, pinning her to the ground beneath them.

"Why hello there, mermaid." He stumbled out, almost as surprised as she was that he actually caught her.

She laughed softly. "Hello. Sirens the name, singing's my game. What shall I croak for you, my sailor?"

He made a face. "Croak?"

She gave him a sour look. "Did I not warn you my voice was dreadful?"

"Can anything pass through those lips," and here he glanced down at them before lifting his gaze to her eyes again, "be referred to as dreadful?"

She ignored the flutter in her stomach as his closeness, or the sweet gestures he spoke.

"Ah, you flatter me." She said quickly, to dismiss the warm feeling spreading through her thighs and belly. "Shall I sing you a song of valor and chivalry considering you lack some today, my friend?"

Legolas rolled to the side, just enough so he wouldn't hurt her, but kept her hands pinned above her head to the ground. She attempted to propped herself up on her elbows, but he kept her firmly in place below him. His thumb rubbed circles on her wrist, causing her to bite her lower lip. His look was deep and vague and seemed troubled. She felt worried.

"My friend?" He merely looked away causing concern to alarm her. "Surely you know I jest. You are truly the embodiment of valor and chivalry. You must know that." She freed her hand and reached to his face, "Legolas?"

He glanced at her and smiled to reassure her, taking her hand in his own, kissing her palm. "Of course. I was just thinking how much I would prefer a lament, sweet lass."

"Lament, Legolas?" She pulled his hand to her chest. "Tell me friend, what is it?"

"My time is coming to an end." he said softly.

Enelya felt sick at his tone. "Your time is coming to an end? Surely you have lost your mind. What have eaten today? Did someone poison you? You do look flush, and earlier you-"

He put a finger on her lip to silence her and smiled gently. "Nay, I am well enough to know that I am not so well."

"Riddles Legolas." she whined. "Speak plainly."

"I am to be wed at morning's light. This is my last day of freedom, I suppose you could call it."

They both dropped into a silence, the wind moving through the brush the only sound surrounding them. Enelya felt her heart drop into her gut. But had his father not said he would arrange something new? He made her realize how she felt about his son, and then directly implied that he would arrange amends! Didn't he? Certainly he did not expect his son to marry, keeping her a loveless concubine forever.

"Legolas," she swallowed. "Do you see marriage as your 'end' as you so bluntly put it."

He shrugged. "From what I hear, she is a prize," his hand that she held to her chest allowed him to brush her collarbone with his thumb, "but not one I deserve."

She sighed, ignoring the tingle of his touch. "You humble yourself, I don't understand. You deserve the world."

He ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. "What have I done to win her heart? And in truth, do I have her heart? Does she fear me? Loathe me? Or does she just see me as her way to the throne of Mirkwood?" He thoughts came out so quickly, so full of distress. "There is no possible way she can carry any good intentions towards me. This won't be a marriage- it is a contract."

"My friend," she clasped his hand harder and held it to her chest. "She would gladly give you her heart for all the right reasons."

"And why, fair concubine, should I believe you?"

And when he expected a jest or a sarcastic remark from her, she glanced away, and smiled sadly. "Because I would know."

That moment became precious to him. The way the soil felt beneath them, the tall grass whiping about above them, the way her hair fell across her shoulder, the color of green she wore, the way she bit her lip and wouldn't meet his gaze. She was beautiful to him. A precious friend, pulling at him. He felt undone.

"You would give me your heart?" He spoke slowly.

"Nay," she whispered, almost with feigned strength. He reached for her chin and gently brought her face towards him. When her eyes fluttered upwards to meet his own she smiled sweetly. "Perhaps a kidney but never my heart."

She laughed at his sour expression.

"And to think I had you there for a moment believing..." but her laughter cut out the rest of her words as he pulled her to her feet. He tried to glare at her and her mean antics but instead he found himself biting back a smile and pushing her out of their own private sea. He felt disappointment pounding in his chest.

She, however, felt immense relief for covering her mistake and thoughtless admission.

"Come now, my clumsy sailor, a kiss for the fair siren?"

"Please, you jest. I did not get my dreadful song, as you put it."

She turned briefly, cutting him in mid step, "Fair." And with a swift clearing of the throat she fell into a sweet melody, "Fair maiden, lo, you're going home. O'er mountains pass you go." He smiled and pushed her back into step. "Where trees so green, and waters blue, lure you, my emerald lass."

Of course she sang beautifully, he thought. "You sing well."

"As I imagine you kiss well too."

"I have never had the pleasure."

"Of kissing yourself?" She shrugged. "I imagine it would be awkward for such a thing."

"I imagine most elves have this type of conversation before their tenth year."

"I imagine I was a lonely child." She leaned into him.

He pulled her to him harder, placing an arm around her shoulder as they walked laughing. "Well stop imagining, fair concubine, and kiss me."

"I do not kiss dictators." She responded dully, faking a yawn.

"You lead me on." He pushed her away with a smirk. "Teaser."

"As I am prone to do. I am a female, I am a concubine. Must I spell it out for you?"

Legolas stopped walking and waited for Enelya to stop and turn around as well.

"What?" She asked.

He looked so beautiful with the breeze in his hair, the warm sun on his skin, she had to choke back a sigh and force a natural smile.

"Enelya," he began softly, "Would you have me believe that you do not wish to kiss me?"

Her heart stopped. Did he know her true desires? He stepped forward, reaching for a loose strand of her dark hair, pushing it behind her ear.

"Legolas," she breathed out softly, "I would rather kiss a toad."

Pushing away all her nerves, she forced the familiarity of their friendship by pulling him with her falling back into song, "O'er mountains pass we'll go. Where tress so green, and waters blue, lure us home, my emerald lass."

"Are you calling me a lass?" he asked.

"Certainly." She stopped abruptly and turned to him. "Sailor, where is your ship?"

Despite his disappointment in her avoiding the chemistry between them, he found himself laughing and leading her through the tall brush, narrating the dreadful shipwreck her singing caused him.

* * *

**T.B.C.**

thanks for reading, friends.

-blurr


	9. The White Secret

**The King**

Chapter Nine: _The White Secret_

by blurr

* * *

_She gripped on to hold herself steady, ignoring the lack of tears that just wouldn't come. The warmth of his body stilled her own into a strange shock, making her numb to response. His voice was sickening, whispering in her ear as his hands held her hips down hard against the cold stone ground. _

_"Relax," His breath smelled of rich wine, making her want to vomit. She wanted to cry out but simply nothing would come but a horse groan to which he took as a slight moan. His lips bit down into her own, drawing a dull taste of blood mixed with wine._

_"Please," she finally was able to murmur, feeling the first tears strip down her cheek. "Stop."_

_But he didn't heed her begging as he pushed her harder into the ground, letting his weight push against her as he lifted her dress up enough to fill her with his warm length. Soon, as the deadly rhythm took over her senses, she began to cry and scream._

The night greeted her silently as she opened her eyes to the airy loft. The recent visions felt heavy on her mind, as she could still smell the dark memory, along with his scent.

"You have been screaming for an hour." A calm voice said. She glanced to the side to see the Prince sitting on a chair that did not belong in her room. He looked like a mess; tired, worried, worn out. But when he saw the concern in her eyes he smiled gently and got off the chair to lay next to her.

"You did not wake me?" She asked, steadying her voice as much as possible, slightly disappointed at the soft wavering.

"I had the heart to, love. I promise. It was hard not too." Legolas said quickly in one breath. "You must know that." He kissed her brow and brushed back a few dark locks behind her ears. "However, my father said it was best for you to let whatever ill thought came to you in your sleep to play out so you could discover what would come of it."

Her heart felt cold. Nothing good would come of it- nothing ever had.

Legolas noticed the slight tremble of her lower lip and felt his gut tighten. He had lied. It wasn't just an hour but an entire night, or so it seemed, of her tossing and screaming for help as he sat there, helpless, fighting against himself to merely reach out to his friend and hold her close. She was so dear to him, he couldn't stand to watch her cry.

"Do you wish to speak of it?"

"Nothing good could come of speaking about such illness." Her voice was different than he had heard before. It was colder, dull. Lifeless. He reached for her, pushing her long hair over her shoulder.

"Enelya," He whispered, "No harm will ever touch you as long as you are in my arms. You know this, so why do you fear?"

She took a deep breath, watching as he adjusted the covers so he could slide in and pull her rightly up against himself. His warmth was calming. She rested her head against him, letting the rise and fall of his chest numb her mind. Her father was right, Legolas was home. His father was right, she longed for him. Yet she was constantly reminded that this prince was not meant for her.

"I fear for when I will not be in your arms, Legolas. What will protect me then?"

"And what can separate us? My father?"

Despite herself, Enelya laughed. "Nay. He would sew us together if we allowed him too."

Legolas chuckled, his chest slightly shaking with the gesture. She smiled warmly up at him. Kissing his chin from her awkward tilt of her head. He closed his eyes at the contact, his grip on her shoulder becoming firmer.

"Thank you for coming and being by my side. I'm so sorry, your evening was stressed as it was with your pressing wedding in the morning. You are a good friend."

Legolas was warmed by her kiss, and smiled back at her. "As are you." Though she smiled sweetly at him then, hiding her troubles, Legolas couldn't help but feel a disturbance in the air. "Enelya?"

"Hmm?"

Legolas pulled her up further so the two were face to face.

"My friend. I promise never to let you go." He let his finger trace her lower lip.

Enelya blinked once before nodding mutely.

"Do you understand this?" His hold on her was strong and commanding. Though thrown off by his unsual mannerism, Enelay felt a deep comfort spreading through her stomach, grounding her in security.

"I do, my friend. I understand."

After a quick silent moment between the two, Legolas suddenly smiled and kissed her nose to which the lovely mountain elf squealed in delight. _A pact. _

* * *

The King rubbed his temples trying his best to ignore the worry itching at his heart. However, even the best kings fail when it comes to their heart, and Thranduil felt as though he was the King of failure at the moment. The sheer sweat on Enelya's brow and heart wrenching screams was enough to worry him, but the cold vibe vibrating from her room while he watched her toss and turn from the doorframe was enough to send chills down his spine.

Naturally, Legolas had heard her and was there with a worried look of his own. Thranduil instantly recognized the familiar pained expression- one he knew all too well. Before Legolas could gently wake his friend to console her, Thranduil felt an overwhelming sense of wisdom at work. He pulled back Legolas and explained that whatever dreams the Valor felt necessary for Enelya to have should remain uninterrupted. Legolas of course disputed at first, but with a few more words of explanations on the Kings part, Legolas was mildly content to merely sit next to her side until she woke.

As the night carried on, Thranduil sat at the end of his bed, watching the shadows from the lone candle flicker across the wall. It was a long time later when he heard the laughter from his darling coming down the royal halls. She was awake.

* * *

Today, she realized, her prince was getting married.

_Married_.

Nothing could ease her heart at that moment. Or at least almost nothing. He gave her a smile meant only for her and a gentle squeeze on her elbow giving her all the assurance she needed. The morning stretched on through the halls of the elvin king, but the two simple friends laid side by side in the over dressed bed, daring the other to get up first and greet the coming day.

"Look at it this way," Enelya started slowly, the first words to break the undisturbed morning, "In a twisted and roundabout way, you are really gaining just another servant."

She bit her lip and watched as Legolas sweet smile turned into a look of disbelief.

"You would take me to be a demanding husband with no sensitivity at all but to command my wife around all day for my whim?" His words came out in one breath, she was sure of it. When she didn't say anything he snorted dramatically and turned his look from her.

"No." She pulled one of the overly extravagant fur blankets and pulled it to her chin. "You will have children too, naturally, and you must make commands on their behalf as well." She dared a glance at him. "Shouldn't you?"

Legolas laughed.

"You have a lot to learn about family mountain elf." Was his only retort as he too pulled the soft fur to his chin.

"Nonsense, I invented family as far as I know it. There isn't an ounce of dysfunction between my father and I. Now your father and you are a different story."

"Hush, concubine."

"Make me."

Legolas thought about it, but he was simply too comfortable in his current state.

And so a comfortable silence filled the room as the two looked like children, blankets up to their chin with only their delicate faces peeking out. The tension of the coming day was beckoning at their door but neither wished to answer it. Today, was his wedding day.

"Concubine," Legolas began, watching as Enelya rolled her eyes at the overly used and dramatically incorrect nickname, "Would you care to hear a rumor?"

"What rumors has the Prince taken a likening to? You have much too much time on your hands Legolas, I swear. Shall we get you a hobby? You would make a fine seamstress."

Despite her insult Legolas laughed goodheartedly. "Nay my friend, this rumor gives me hope."

The mischievous light in his eyes peaked Enelya's interest. She rolled to her side using her elbow to prop up her head and watched with fascination as Legolas unfolded the deep mysteries discussed between the kitchen staff.

"Apparently, my father has sent a messenger to my bride's father beckoning him to arrive." Enelya was sure he would go on but he merely smiled at her causing her to be confused.

"And?"

"And what? Do you not see?"

"Legolas," She pulled the covers from him ignoring his groan, and continued on to wrap herself up, "I naturally assumed your father would send out messengers for the bridal party. Are you daft in the terms of etiquette?" She sighed dramatically, "My poor prince, your beauty has made you stupid."

She laughed as he playfully hit her arm but she merely took his hand in her own, a friendly gesture as it seemed.

"Hear me out."

"Forgive me," she kissed the back of his hand and gestured for him to continue, "I am all ears my lord."

"My father sent for the bridal party weeks ago, naturally her father would be informed and better yet be the receiver of such an invitation." Legolas pulled her closer and let his voice drop. "Now this is where it gets interesting." She tried to ignore his warm breath on her neck and the smell of the forest in his hair as he continued on with his tale. "Two days later my father sent yet another message to the same address. The messenger is a old mate of mine and informed me that this time it was indeed not an invitation but yet a bypass agreement to end such a betrothal."

Enelya certainlly was all ears now. He smiled as he watched the wheels start to turn and Enelya put the pieces together.

"Legolas, this can't be right. Today is your wedding. Did you not notice the wedding feast in your honor last night?"

"And that is what makes the rumor so interesting." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "There is a wedding today, I'm sure of that." He stated with a wave of his hand. "And yet the betrothal was dismissed."

She bit her lip. "Friend, I do not see why that is so important."

"Do you not see, Enelya?" He hardly used her name, and she enjoyed the way it came off his lips.

However, his next words she didn't quite so enjoy. "Certainlly the bride is of Mirkwood."

Why would that give him hope?

* * *

**T.B.C.**

thanks for reading friends.  
I love hearing your thoughts and reviews.

-blurr


	10. To Make Counsel With a King

**The King**

Chapter Ten: _To Make Counsel with a King_

by blurr

* * *

Wedding Day.

The staff was sure not to make any mistakes. Between a tense king, a troubled looking mountain elf, and a confused prince- the royalty of the Mirkwood kingdom was anything but polite. The elves were quite organized- even in the midst of emotional turmoil. Something Thranduil always found quite fascinating.

He sat, grounded at his throne, sitting high like the mighty king he liked to view himself as from to time to time, as he watched the stoic faces of his staff move smoothly before him as they arranged everything in a timely manner to his every whim. It gave him a strange inner thrill to know such power came from just the breath of a command.

It was _sickening _as well.

Or so Enelya thought.

She leaned against the doorframe of the main hall watching the almost synchronized maids as they dusted, wiped, and decorated to the swift and sometimes bluntly rude commands blurted out by whom she liked to think as a little boy with a big crown.

What a King, indeed.

Thranduil caught her disapproving glare from across the room and gave a small grunt under his breath. Giving a smooth smile, one made for politics, he motioned for her to make her way through the organized mess to sit at his side and have a lovely conversation.

"You are a bastard at times." she blurted out once she reached him.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so lovely after all.

"Mind your words around your King." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry." She cleared her throat. She placed one hand deliberately on her hip and raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You are a bastard at times, _my Lord_."

"No," he said slowly, keeping his lips from curving into a pleased smile. Falling into the lower register of a fatherly tone he quoted, "A king must be a bastard at all times at the expense of others to redeem thyself of great power and mirth."

"Mirth, my lord?" She looked genuinely surprised.

"Come now," he groaned with a wave of his hand, "You have never took the measure to call me Lord before, do not start now."

"I refer to you as Lord many times," she leaned forward, "my Lord."

He pinched the bridge of his nose again, and harder with a sigh, "Well you have never meant it."

"Ah," She smiled beautifully at that, "You speak the truth."

With a soft laugh and a gentle kiss on the his brow, she sat next to him in the overly sized throne looking over the mass of confused but orderly disperse of elves. The large chair gave plenty of room on each side of her thighs, her feet barely brushing the ground. She looked like the little girl he so often still thought of her as. And like that little girl, she wore the look of discontentment of some no-good mistake he made without knowing.

"Come, my friend, what disapproving glare is this? Out with it."

She didn't look at him but instead continued to watch the wedding decorations being placed carefully about the main hall.

"I'm not sure." She said softly. Noticing his smug smile she added quickly and firmly, "However, I am sure you are just as deserving of it despite my knowledge of what trouble you have had your hand in of late."

Ah. Of course. "Glad to know I have your trust."

She smiled forcefully. "Always." After a moment she asked, "I thought you were going to end this betrothal."

Now the King of Mirkwood was always one for mind games, especially to those close to him. "I take it you had a interesting conversation with Legolas this morning?"

No one but the King would have noticed the slight rise of her brow and the deliberate even paced breaths. "What makes you think I've seen him this morning?"

"You two stayed in bed very late in the hours of dawn." He said absently.

"Yes, well, neither of us wanted to get out of-" Enelya froze mid sentence and looked over at him, her lips forming the perfect 'o.'

"Bed?" He suggested. To her dumb look he nodded. "Yes, well, I imagine the warmth of each other's skin was plenty seducing enough to steal a few extra hours before greeting the world."

"Come now," she moaned, "We were just talking."

"And the gentle rise of his exposed chest with each breath, the soft moans-"

She hit his arm causing him to laugh out. A laugh that echoed throughout the chambers.

"We. Were. Talking." She said quietly as the elves turned from their surprised glances and back to their work.

"A shame." He added. "His mother and I always talked beforehand. But I can see how your way makes more sense."

"Please." She touched his arm, ignoring the uncomfortable thoughts and memories that surfaced. "He was kind enough to be with me during an ill night."

The smile dropped from his face. "Ill night, indeed." He glanced away. "The entire palace heard your screams, child. Ill dreams are dangerous grounds, friend."

She nodded. "Yes." She bit her lower lip, before smiling gently. "Worry not, my friend. Nothing of such pain could come about." Thranduil didn't believe her inner resolve but decided to leave it at that. "May I ask you a question of a more personal note, my Lord?"

"Ask."

Enelya quickly debated whether or not to beat around the bush. Yet the smug look on his face gave her the notion that such mind games would be pleasing to him.

"Who is Legolas bride to be exactly? And why are you forcing this wedding?" _Why won't you let me have him_, she thought silently.

Thranduil didn't answer right away. Instead he opted to read her motivation before responding absently.

"A charming lass whom I'm sure you could learn a thing or two from."

She ignored his lost wit and continued, "There was just misunderstandings concerning the bridal invitations to the family."

"Oh?"

"Why beckon only the father if there is to be a wedding this very day? And why send out a dismissal of the engagement? Obviously the dismissal was not recognized if there is still a wedding to be conducted today."

Thranduil gave her a dull look. "Mountain elf, I would expect you to be above the talking of nothings among the kitchen staff and lowly maids."

"And I would expect you to be above manipulation." Was her quick reply. "Especially when concerning your son, the Prince."

That was blunt.

Thranduil felt like rolling his eyes, but he felt the thrill of her harsh words bring out the aliveness in him.

"Kings do not manipulate. We make orderly operations that seem to fit the best will of everyone involved."

"Indeed?" She leaned forward in her chair. "You are my friend first before my King. So tell me, friend," her words were soft but piercing all the same, "What ill arrangement have you made?"

Thranduil sighed. She was a persistent one.

"Child," he reached for her hand, "You speak truth. No bride has been beckoned."

A mixture of curiosity and smugness lit up her face.

Thranduil smiled mischievously. "But you missed one thing, darling."

"Oh?" She asked dryly.

"One who is married cannot remarry. Can he, now?"

She missed the key word here: remarry. Instead she blurted out, "Then who is getting married today?"

"One of the healer's daughters. Obviously. Her father was away on leave, so we beckoned him to let him know the date and time of his daughter's binding." She looked ever so confused so he added, "Did you not get the invite?"

"Then..." She bit her lip, working out what the King was saying to her. "Why send the dismissal of betrothal to the same address if the wedding is to take place today?"

"You have faulty information. The message was delivered to the same outpost as her father, but it was merely a transfer of messageners. The dismissal was for my sons betrothal which was not to take place today. Honestly, are you not above the palace staff gossip, my sweet lass?"

She looked furious. "But Legolas! How could you let him believe today was his wedding today? He has been sick with worry!"

He waved his hand with a dismissal. "Not my problem, mountain elf. His wife and him will sort out if they want some ceremony or not in the future, but really what is done, is done."

"Father," Legolas asked from a few steps down the throne, clueless to the conversation between the two seated. "I need to talk with you about today's ceremony."

Enelya's mouth had yet to shut. She was clearly confused. She glanced at Legolas and back to the King.

The king kept his eyes fixed on his beloved mountain elf as she looked back over at the Prince in shock and awe. "His wife?"

Legolas perked up at that, "What? What wife?"

After a moment the King cleared his throat and added for good measure, "The throne suits you fine, mountain elf."

* * *

**T.B.C.**

Love you all. I hope all is well with you.  
Thanks for reading! Love to know what you think about 'The King.'

-blurr


	11. Hidden bonus chapter

**short & new, interjected chapter. Enjoy.**

* * *

**The King**

Chapter 10.5: _Hidden_

by blurr

* * *

Enelya sat, firm and still, the cold throne holding her frame. She was furious, lost, and confused.

Apparently today there was a wedding.

Apparently today there was a wedding not including Legolas.

Apparently today there was a wedding not including Legolas, because _he was already married_.

What?

The King seemed unfazed with dropping that kind of news on them. Why would he deceive them like that? Why would he lead them on to believe that today was the day Legolas would bind himself to another? And why would he ever keep information such as Legolas previous status of married from them? Who was the bride? Did she know she was married- and to the Prince of Mirkwood at that? Enelya felt despair inching up around her heart. Legolas was married. He was married to another.

She bit her lip, and watched the Prince grow angry before them. "Father, I think we should take this conversation to your study. Now."

The King smiled over at her. "The study, my lass." He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing her wrist. "You have no qualms about my study do you?"

She winced at that, the memory of stolen kisses and realizations resurfacing. "No, my lord," she blurted out, drawing her hand away from his. She hated how calm he seemed, as the Prince and her struggled to understand the mess before them.

The walk to the study was stiff and silent, the servants around them going about their business as they set up flowers and ribbons, and lit candles everywhere. It was like a sea of light, she thought. They'd stop and bow as their King pass them by and she briefly tried to recall a single moment she herself had bowed to him.

Not likely, after this, she thought.

Eventually the three of them found themselves alone in the study. The King idly went about lighting oil lamps, mumbling to himself about parchment paper, and shuffling books about to make room for them to sit. Enelya refused to glance at the Prince, but felt him watching her carefully.

And carefully watch her, he did. He was desperately looking for any sign of emotion from his friend. Did she know anything more than he did? Her tight posture, with her hands wrapped around her middle, and her gaze on the floor made him think no. Ironically she wore his mother's wedding gown- probably because it was the most formal dress she owned and today was certainly a day of formality. He longed so much to reach for her, but instead glanced back at his father.

"Sit, you two, please." Thranduil gestured to the recently cleared chairs. Without a word they both plopped down. "Now then, shall I explain and clear up any confusion you may have?"

The both nodded silently.

"Splendid. My son was betrothed two hundred winters ago. Recently that betrothal was bounded, and now, today, we're celebrating a wedding of one of our best healer's daughter. The palace is beautiful, don't you think, with the candles lit and the flowers dispersed? I so love a good wedding." His smile was smug. "Now, do you have any questions?"

Enelya bit her lip. She hated how he seemed to beat around the bush, without answering any of their real questions and concerns. He was mad!

Legolas however, looked furious. "You married me off, somehow, without my approval or permission? You did it without ceremony or tradition? Not only did you break my trust here, but you allowed me to believe today was my wedding day to a mysterious bride I have never met! And you expect me to just be okay with it?"

Enelya winced. She had never heard the Prince speak so angrily before. Yet she was surprised he wasn't standing and throwing stuff at the immature excuse of a King.

"Well." Thranduil crossed his arms, as if he was challenging his son. "Yes. Yes I did."

Legolas sighed and leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"To be fair, my son," The king sat on the desk, "I fully intended to announce your marriage today. To you, to Enelya, and to the entire court. So, it wasn't too far from the truth to say today you were getting married, because honestly, today you were merely going to acknowledge your marriage for the first time."

"Are you seriously grasping at straws now? You're desperately trying to make a big stretch here." Legolas pointed out, his arms crossed, a challenge of his own.

"I'm pointing out the truth." Was the King's reply.

"How is that fair? You are playing games with me. With us." Legolas reached over and squeezed Enelya's hand. "You made us believe I was to be married today. I have been worried sick."

"You are married today." He pointed out.

"Is this really a game to you?" Legolas almost shouted.

Enelya cleared her throat and spoke for the first time. "Friend," she looked up to the king with a look he didn't think he could handle. "You made me believe things would work out. Speak plainly to us now. What is going on?"

"Haven't they?" the King suggested. "How is this situation not working out for you? Tell me."

"Nay, my lord." She said softly, biting her lip. "You made me believe things would work out between the Prince and me."

Legolas looked sharply over to her. "Enelya?"

She couldn't meet his gaze, and instead stared at her hands. "When I discovered how I felt about you, he reassured me things would work out. It was implied."

Legolas swallowed. "How….how do you feel about me, my friend?"

"I lied the other day." She shrugged, sniffing softly. "I'd give you my heart, my prince." This time she did look up to him, with eyes filled with tears. He squeezed her hand again, feeling the constant loneliness that seized his heart slowly dissipating. He felt the weight of her words come crushing down around him, but yet it only served to fuel and increased his anger towards his father.

He looked over at the King, who looked quite content watching their interaction. Was he cruel and heartless, Legolas wondered? "Why, father?" Why this mess? Why play with us?

"Because I love you, my son. And you," he gestured towards Enelya, "you are my heart and soul. Would I not bend Middle Earth inside and out again to make your soul content and happy? Honestly, your lack of trust in me is honestly making me question the strength of our friendship."

"Perhaps if you were honest and direct for once in your life, my lord," she hissed, "I'd trust you."

He shrugged. "Fair."

Legolas felt torn. He so longed to reach over to his lovely concubine, pulling her to himself. Instead he sat still in his chair, unable to move. What a mess his father had made. It was so unlike him. So unlike the King to mess and meddle with the lives of others to this degree. It was sickening.

But his father seemed completely unfazed. Almost pleased with himself.

"Now," the king said, "I expect you two to sit down and decide if you'd like a formal ceremony or not to reflect your status."

* * *

t.b.c.

added this short little chapter around six years later to help tie over the chapters and reduce confusion that my younger self didn't clear up.  
thanks for reading! Love to know what you think, friends.

-blurr


	12. Husband meet Wife

**The King**

Chapter Eleven: _Husband Meet Wife_

by blurr

* * *

He was expecting perhaps mass confusion again to result. From either of them. In truth, that would be what he would have preferred. Then he could take his mind games a step further at the expense of Enelya and Legolas. Or there could have been a moment of intense awkwardness that would either go sour or perhaps, just maybe, after the awkwardness, the two could smooth out their differences and begin a beautiful life together. And there was the highly improbable romantic embrace. That would have been a lovely sight, Thranduil thought. The two realizing that they were indeed made for each other, push confusion and awkwardness aside only to pull each other together in one hard and passionate kiss. Yes. Improbable. Married life. How did it become so complicated?

Now anger- that was a likely reaction. Especially on the feisty mountain elf's part. She was keen to it, he sourly noticed. Now, anger towards _what _was another story all together. Anger towards the gentle deceit and manipulation would have been logical.

However- Enelya was never one to be logical.

"You kissed me!"

It was almost funny, Thranduil thought, biting his inner lip to keep from laughing out. It could have been a reasonable complaint- if her next words weren't so oblivious, "You kissed a married woman!"

And here was a string of curses that Legolas swore he never heard from any other elf other than his father who swore he picked it up from the human race. Curses that would have made Enelya's father disown her.

Thranduil couldn't help but let out an appreciative grunt at her creativeness before shrugging off her accusations.

"A mere peck." He shrugged it off. "It is called the art of manipulation." He leaned forward for good measure, ignoring his mind screaming at him. He took that kiss because he wanted it without motivation. "You should understand this concept, shouldn't you? Its branded into your very heart as a female and everything." He sat back, with a smug smirk as he explained very sweetly and shortly, "I understand that I was meddling in business that was not my own, however, I was fully enjoying every moment of it. I have no regrets."

Words escaped her as the shock flooded her like gasping in water while drowning. She was married. She was married to Legolas. How? When? What?

Legolas on the other hand was slowly making the realization that reality wasn't anything what he thought it was.

"You kissed my wife?" He asked, dumbfounded, almost as angry as Enelya. Thranduil gave him an amazed look. That, the King thought, was not expected. Did they not hear themselves speaking? Was it not clicking yet? "You manipulative bastard."

Apparently not.

"No." Thranduil corrected, picking his words carefully. "Art of manipulation. Not a manipulative bastard. How many times must we go over this? I'm the King! Where is my respect?"

Then, in quite the caviar-voice he added. "Manipulative bastard is simply too low for even the likes of me."

"Low?" Enelya repeated. "Shall we discuss the string of events you have unfolded that some would considered low?"

"Please." He sighed her words off. "The gold arrows at your father's house should have been a pre-warning and disclaimer to all trust and integrity on my behalf."

"Indeed." Enelya snorted. She stood up and this pointed at him. "How dare you kiss a married woman!"

"Yes, how dare you kiss my wife!" Legolas added, standing up for the first time.

Thranduil wasn't sure to roll his eyes or erupt with roaring laughter. The two were clearly missing the bigger picture. Standing just feet from each other was their significant other, their spouse, their teammate, and by god, the love of their life.

And yet they want to argue and debate over a simple gesture such as a kiss on his part. Weren't they more curious about the fact that they were in fact married?

"Legolas, I expected more from you. Use your head. And you," He turned his attention to the steaming maiden, "Should learn to keep your lips to yourself."

"I did not kiss you!" Came the retort.

Legolas turned his anger towards Enelya. "You kissed my father? Even though you are my wife?"

"He kissed me!" she quickly replied in a desperate attempt to defend herself.

All that pursued was one dumbfounded look followed by another string of impressive and creative curses broken only by the simple clarity of one shocked prince.

"Enelya and I are married?" asked slowly, to which the King nodded. "To each other?" Legolas added, a slow smile spreading across his features.

Enelya froze as the endearments of wife and marriage began to register. "Legolas," she whispered, grabbing on to the armrest of the throne. "I think I need my pearl necklace about now."

Thranduil grunted. Good. Back to confusion. This he could handle.

Awkwardness is a strange thing. It comes swiftly, but then painfully lingers until everyone within speaking distance is humiliated and humbled. To ease awkwardness takes a special gifting. A gifting that both mountain elf and wood elf prince were currently lacking.

The prince and his concubine were man and wife.

Oh holy light.

* * *

Sitting side by side, out underneath the confining caves to the open meadows outside of Mirkwood, they sat, watching the breeze pull the long grass into one long, sea like wave. An awkward silence instilled between their lips, and clenching at their hearts, neither dared to speak.

Thranduil had, after the two calmed themselves, explained a bond set in motion before Enelya was born. A pact that neither elves could separate. Naturally the two asked questions. Why weren't they informed? Why was such a bond made? To which the elusive King merely would respond, "In time I will tell you." Of course he realized that the two needed to adjust to the realization that they were indeed married before adding to the confusion.

Both had protested at such a statement, but Thranduil merely ordered them to go out, spend time, and speak. They couldn't deny the bond they felt, he said.

As the layers of deceit were edge back, and the fuel of anger and discontent was brushed aside, Enelya and Legolas were faced with a daunting and real fact: They were husband and wife.

Enelya stole a glance at him, watching as the breeze tucked his hair gently. He sat, eyes closed, and almost slouched in defeat. His usual confidence missing. Her first thought surprised her. Did she even deserve this beautiful creature? Surely not. Granted she realized days before she was in love with the Prince of Mirkwood, she was certain he was content with a friendship, what he had always longed for with her.

What a disappointment this must be to him, she thought. And with that she felt all the fiery and independence leave her, and instead a vulnerable girl, wanting to be desired was left, heart broken and dependent for his approval. Something she didn't believe he would grant. It took everything to will herself to look away and ponder the future of loving someone who didn't love you in return. What an empty life she would lead. Being a royal concubine never look so appealing.

Legolas could feel her sadness radiating. He felt all his security ripped out underneath him by her apparent disappointment. He closed his eyes, letting the breeze bring clarity. He was surprised to find his father was correct: the bond was there. How did he not notice it before? But of course he had. Merely mistaken it's identity. He felt foolish. What was to come of this? Where did they go now? He knew by obedience Enelya would not fight this. And he would honor his father and hers by accepting such a fate.

Yet did she not say she'd give her heart to him?

Legolas had accepted the idea of a forced marriage. Enelya didn't even have a chance to prepare like he did. Of course she would be hurt and angry. She had every right to be.

"I have never heard of such circumstances." Enelya said softly. "I don't understand the need to pretend to make me your concubine."

"He said he was giving us time to fall in love." He sighed. "Apparently with the freedom for a physical relationship. It's scary, that _he _is our King."

Legolas opened his eyes, only to meet the sadness reflected in her own. "Will our friendship survive this?"

"Friend," he began, almost wincing at the endearment when she was obviously so much more. "Such circumstances will not come between us."

Despite herself, Enelya laughed. "Such circumstances bind us, Legolas."

He nodded slowly. "I suppose there is nothing we can do. Dwelling won't solve anything. I suggest we make our way back for the wedding ceremony. My father said afterwards, at the banquet he'd make the announcement to everyone concerning our marriage, and perhaps, if we were willing, he'd lead us in some simple vows."

She bit her lip. "Excuse me?"

Enelya was sure she heard wrong. Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

Legolas looked confused. "I mean, well, what did you have in mind?"

She huffed. "Surely you do not plan to let our parents win, do you?" Her heart belonged to him, perhaps it always did. But she hated the idea that this was how her marriage was to come about. At the will of others. Where was the romance? Where was the tender vows that were heartfelt and not obligated?

For the first time Legolas saw Enelya as an immature young elf, and himself as the old wise one. "This isn't about letting our parents win or not. It is about how I am your husband, you are my wife, and we should do what is right."

"Right." She repeated. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Clearly." He sighed. "Do you not sense the bond between us?"

Of course she did. She was in love with him! "Bond or not, I will not be forced into something I do not want to do." _I want to be loved, not tolerated!_ she thought.

Legolas looked furious now, standing up abruptly. "Am I a repulsive husband?"

"Certainlly if you are going to let your father walk all over you."

"Enelya," he said firmly, "You will go back with me, you will say your vows, and you will be my wife."

"Just because I love you doesn't mean you can dictate me around either! Or are you your father?"

Legolas instantly softened. He reached out and touched her shoulder. "You love me?"

She wasn't about to let him get off easy. She jerked away from his touch and stood up as well. "Yes love, you idiot. Or have you not noticed? Even your father put the moves on me before you did!"

The shock instantly melted off. "Enelya." He said sternly.

But she would not hear it.

"No Legolas. I will not hear anything more from you."

"You will hear something from me because I am your husband and I love you too." He crossed his arms.

"Well excuse me, _husband_," she spat out the word, "Love is not enough when the actions are cold and not heartfelt! I want to be courted and loved, not tolerated! Not 'accepted' just because you were informed today that I was your wife!"

And with that she turned and ran from him.

It wasn't until she got to the inner chambers did she come across the first maid and asked, "Please, get my things, and arrange a horse to meet me outside the great caves. I must go back to the mountains quickly."

* * *

**T.B.C.**

Ya know, when I first wrote this chapter years, and years ago I thought relationships in no way were this complicated.  
A few years into marriage myself and I find myself realizing perhaps my relationship written here wasn't complicated enough!  
thank you for reading! Love to hear what you think.

-blurr


	13. Of Fresh Air and Mountians

**The King**

Chapter Twelve: _Of Fresh Air and Mountains_

by blurr

* * *

Enelya moved quickly. Her hands felt numb at the rising emotions threatening to spill out. How could he? No, how dare he treat her like the little obedient wife. She was an independent elf of the mountains who refused to be controlled by some prince who doesn't even have the guts to live above ground let alone romance her! He was just being obedient to his father, not his heart.

She grunted underneath her breath. Surely not even royalty control her or her fate. She was never the following type anyway. But then again, she did decide to be his concubine. Shouldn't the title of princess be better? She mentally kicked herself as she grabbed a handbag and started shoving in the few precious belongings scattered about. The last thing she wanted or needed was to start pondering the role and title of royalty on her behalf.

A concubine was one thing. But being a wife? She didn't want a husband to marry her out of obedience. Sure, he said he loved her. _He loved her? _Enelya stopped in mid step to moan quite unlady like. A confession of love didn't make it any better! What was love? Was it enough for marriage? She hardly thought so. Besides, she brushed off his confession as a mere token to keep her around. She sighed, looking around the cozy chambers, now a disoriented mess. She would miss it here, surely. And the small voice returned in her head, one she was learning to despise very quickly. _Why must you leave then?_ She huffed at her conscience. Surely being forced into a marriage was useless, certainly when it is not of love. _You love him, he says he loves you, what is the problem?_ No, she thought, what is _your _problem?

The realization that she was arguing with herself deemed her crazy. _Thranduil would pay_.

Refusing to look at anyone, Enelya made her way quickly through the winding halls to the open entrance, avoiding the mass of wedding guest. No one dared to say a word to her. Just her vibe of anger radiated through out the caves. Surely that would be cause of talk: a missing prince, an angry concubine. Something was up, they'd realize.

To her great surprise it wasn't the young maid she had beckoned earlier standing next to the horse with her prepared necessities for the trip. To her great dismay, however, it was none other than the great King of Mirkwood. He said nothing, and wore an expression that Enelya wasn't sure how to read. She took a small step towards him, and when that felt safe, continued her slow arrival.

"I expect you are not happy with me." She said, wincing at the venom in her voice, thus added, "my lord."

He shrugged, the long cloak he wore shuffling as he did so by his feet. "What I feel is irrelevant."

"So is what I feel, as it turns out." She said bitterly. "To force me into marriage I thought was below you. I guess I was foolish to think such things."

She was beautiful when angry, Thranduil thought with a small smile. Her hair flowed about her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her dark eyes were deep with anger. It did help that at the moment she held one hand on her hip, her lips pressed firmly together in what he thought was a pout.

"Enelya, I do not expect you to understand now. Marriage is an extreme bond between husband and wife. The love you will receive will carry you into your elder years, and the respect Legolas will be given will enable him to save Middle Earth if he must."

She sighed. Certainlly an exaggeration on his part, she decided.

She crossed her arms. "I don't expect your son to be saving anything but your reputation of late."

There was a certain wisdom, a strange smirk that Thranduil wore when he was keeping knowledge from her. He didn't say anything more on the subject. His mere presence was starting to annoy her.

"Your father has been informed." He added after a moment. "He returns even now as we speak."

"Returns?"

"Without an announcement he has no reason to be here. Your bag," he handed a dark gray sack to her. "I took the liberty of filling it with some choice foods for your trip."

"My friend, I..." Enelya felt lost for words. Why was he being so thoughtful when she was stomping on his plans? "I'm sorry." She swallowed and look down.

Thranduil looked surprised. "Whatever for? What husband and wife do not fight? Certainly those were my favorite times when I was young and married. Making up always proved to be," he smiled wistfully, "exhausting."

"You truly have no morals or principles." She said in amazement. She leaned into him and sighed.

He waved a hand as if he was dismissing her comment. "Please. Is it not a principle to give in to your marriage duties? Making up is merely one form of such an act."

Her meek and sorry attitude seemed to melt away and instead was placed with that righteous anger that Legolas got a taste of.

"We are not going along with this." She pointed a finger into his chest. "You are a foolish elf to think so."

The King folded his arm and looked at her with great amusement. "You don't have the guts to rebel."

She snorted. "I rebel against my father all the time. You of all people should know even that."

"Yes, but you do not have in you to rebel against me." He pulled her to him. "You are obedient to me, are you not? Just as you will be for my son."

She grew angry at that. Certainlly she could show him. "You're ego is too big for your head."

"Thank you." He grabbed her hand to pull her forward, placing a small kiss on her forehead. "Was that allowed, my lady?" She blushed, remembering their earlier kiss. He laughed at that and quickly placed her on the horse without a word from her part.

Enelya felt the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions. Thranduil secured the pack to her waist. She watched him, truly amazed at the peace radiating from him.

"Enelya," He said softly, when he finished, "He will follow you. He won't let you get away from him. You are his wife, and he knows that. He'll follow."

"I don't want him to."

He laughed beautifully at that. "Yes, yes you. And you need him to. You think he is going along becaues he is being obediant to me. You need to see him fight for you." And with that he tilted his head and smirked, "Don't make it too easy for him."

Suddenly she realized she was going to have to get very honest with her dear friend. "My lord, there is something that..." she swallowed. "There is something you don't know about me. Something that might make me an invalid choice for your son as a wife. That is why I running."

He was quiet for awhile, his arm resting on her leg as he looked up to her as she sat on the horse. "Enelya, there is nothing about you I do not know already."

"But-"

"No. I know. It was horrible and ugly but it does not taint you."

"But it does." she said softly, struggling to figure out how he knew what she was speaking of.

"Your father." He answered her thoughts softly. "And you need to tell your husband. He will follow you, so I suggest not stopping and you'll make it by nightfall."

Enelya didn't get a chance to argue because the King suddenly slapped the rear of the horse sending her on her way. She could hear him call after her, "And mountain elf, when he does reach you, do not cling on to your virtue. _You are married_!"

Despite herself, she felt a small thrill spreading throughout her gut. Maybe the Prince of Mirkwood would hunt her down.

And maybe she didn't mind that so much.

* * *

The trees slowly began to disperse and thin out until finally she was out in the meadow riding hard towards the glorious peaks. Her father's house was quite low within the mountains, however; it was sure to be full of snow at this time of year.

She had many hours to think, to dwell, to daydream and to ponder. Each thought she held captive until it fought her over, creating a new chamber within her mind to open and flood forth more troubling thoughts.

Twice she caught herself agreeing that what she was doing was foolish and rash. But she properly reminded herself that an eternity of a bonded marriage was at stake.

However, something awfully fascinating began to occur with each hour passing. The further she rode from Legolas, the closer to realizing that there was nothing she could do. That fate had been sealed, the marriage contract, per say, had been written up between king and advisor: Enelya was married.

And, she thought dimly, an eternity of a bonded marriage with Legolas was exactly what she wanted.

So what was the problem? But as the sky grew dimmer, with the first stars peaking through, she felt the dark memories invade.

She wasn't a suitable wife for him. She was tainted. And she would have to tell him.

When the cabin came into view she was expecting her heart to feel relief. Finally, she was home. Wasn't she? Everything was just how she remembered it, yet the slow relief and warm embrace of the comforts of home never came.

She slid off the horse, rather awkwardly since she wasn't paying attention to anything she was doing. She didn't bother to bring in her bag but instead took numb steps through the mounting snow to the small cabin door. The familiar scent of sage wood and lavender filled her lungs. Her father sat, in his usual chair next to the fire, a book in one hand, and a cup of warm brewed tea in the other.

He glanced up, with no physical reaction other than a quick nod. "Grab a cup of tea, daughter."

His voice was so casual, as though she had been there all along but merely went outside for a quick breath of fresh air. She wasn't sure to be thrilled to see her beloved father again, or to be hurt by his strange distance, not to mention years of neglecting to tell her of her betrothal to the prince. She ran her hands over her hips, smoothing out her dress from the long ride and turned on her heel to grab a cup.

"Grab two cups." He added absently, continuing to read whatever had his attention before she came in. "Legolas should be here any moment."

Enelya stopped, and swallowed. "Wh-what?"

Her father sighed. "My daughter, no distance you put between yourself and him will erase such a bond."

For the first time, Enelya realized how old he looked. Certainlly he showed no outward aging. Naturally. However, his eyes seemed deeper than she remembered, his hands more knowing, and his lips filled with wisdom. She sighed, leaning against the counter. He was right, she knew that for sure. Distance wasn't doing anything, and she had failed to create more time to think.

"Father," she sighed, with a grim look, "I just needed to process what I heard. And I need you to explain a few things to me."

He motioned to the chair near him. "Sit. Speak daughter so that I may bring clarity to you."

She felt hesitant at first. It took everything in her to ignore the anger brimming in her heart. Finally, when he smiled softly up at her, she moved slowly to sit next to him, watching as he shifted and gave her an expectant look. The wood beneath her feet croaked with each step. She sat, the dress falling about her ankles.

They sat in silence for a mere minute, while Enelya chose her words carefully.

"Why was such a bond put in place?" It was merely the surface of the issue, but it was all she could get out. "Why betrothal between the prince and I?"

His answer came out smoothly as though it was the most natural thing in the world to discuss, like the weather. "Legolas will depend on your respect and strength to make it through the trials to come, my daughter. He will lean and depend on you to make him the man he needs to become."

"What trials?" She asked with growing curiosity. The words of the King came to mind- to save Middle Earth, was it?

"Ones foreseen, child. The King and I do not require details, we act out of obedience." His words were sincere enough. She reached for his cup, taking a sip of the bitter tea that did nothing to smooth out the anxiety she felt.

"So," she sat the cup down and gave her father a pointed look. "I am to be a good little wife so that Legolas may do whatever it is that fate has planned for him to do."

Her father sighed. "Child, do not say it with such disdain. You are to fulfill your destiny by loving him the way," he smiled softly, "that you already do."

She would ignore that comment.

"And pray tell," she leaned forward, "why did you and the King deceive us both?"

"The truth of such a bond would distract you both from actually falling in love." He laughed. "Could you imagine falling in love with a brute you had just learned was your husband? We did not feel this was fair. It was much better this way. For you two to meet, with the thought that it was okay to fall in love. Certainly being his concubine would have perks."

"Perks." She repeated. "You speak as though this was a game. Just like the King."

"At times it was." He said honestly. "And you played along beautifully. Tell me, child, what did you expect to gain from running?"

"Time." She sighed; pushing a few strays to the side. "Time to think, clear my head. Father," she looked up at him, betraying the tough image she tried to keep up, "I think he looks to me as a sister that he loves dearly, but I don't think he desires me as his wife. I don't think he desires me at all."

"Come now," he sat back with a short grunt, "You are beautiful. What elf wouldn't desire you?"

"I was his concubine for how long?" She said bitterly, despite her end of the agreement. "He did not touch me once." She swallowed and sighed. "And- what happen all those years ago, in the woods...I am not pure for him."

"Do not think such thoughts."

"But he must sense I am not pure, he never touched me as his concubine." She pointed out.

There was a commotion of horses outside the tiny cabin. Enelya's heart jumped into her throat. Her father smiled beautifully at the nervous silence that took hold of Enelya within seconds.

"Well, my daughter," he patted her knee and stood up to greet his guest, "If he is feeling what any male in his position would be feeling, I'm sure your untouched status is sure to change now. Could you prepare him a cup of tea?"

"What status would that be?" She asked, pushing aside his request.

"Why," he laughed good heartedly. "Did he not just learn he had a wife? Any self control was erased with such a simple revelation."

There was a firm knock at the door. Her father gestured for her to answer however she merely sat back, folded her arms and stared into the fire. Oh, how she reminded him of her mother. A stubborn girl she was, yet she always gave into obedience...eventually. The look on her face however, made him think that maybe this time it wouldn't be obedience that would bond her to the prince. With a tired sigh he made his way to the door to open it and reveal a very disheveled looking prince.

"Legolas," he began, "You look-"

"Tired?" The Prince added, looking past him to where Enelya sat in the background. "Exhausted? Dirty? Angry? Disrespected?"

"Oh. Disrespected. That is a good one." He shot his daughter a look, thinking back on how he just informed him that the prince would lean on her respect for him. She refused to acknowledge them.

Legolas stepped inside at the gesturing of Enelya's father. He did look quite tired, his eyes were dark, and while he maintained that gracious mannerism elves naturally possessed he looked rather disheveled.

"Or how about," he said softly but firmly, "Abandoned?"

Enelya snapped her attention to that one.

"Abandoned?" She repeated hotly. "What are you? A child who needs ones hands held at all times?"

He took a step closer to her, raising his voice. "How about a husband who demands respect from his wife?"

"Does any of this—" she pointed to him and herself, "bother you?"

"Yes! You are running from me. That is bothersome!"

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced to her father.

"I'll see to your horse," he said, taking the cue from Legolas.

Once the door was shut Legolas closed the distance between him and his bride. Enelya sat up a little straighter when Legolas kneeled in front of her, taking her hands into his own.

"Come now, hear me out. The only thing I can think of that bothers me is the fact that they took away my rights to a highly romantic proposal." He smiled softly. "But I'm willing to forgive them in exchange for your beautiful self to be by my side always."

"Legolas," she moaned, "We cannot let your father win." She wasn't ready to tell him her secret of what was really making her run away from him. Once he found out, it was all over. The darkness in her past would have him turning the other way and running.

He laughed at that. "Is that what this is about? Fine. Forget the fact that he married us without our consent." She rolled her eyes. How was she to forget something like that? "And just focus on the fact that there is one elf, sitting in front of you, desperate to know if the lady he is so foolishly in love with wants to spend the rest of her life loving him in return?"

The anger melted away with his confession. She sat back, eyes thoughtful. "You had a long trip and that was the best thing you could think of?"

He nodded, with a small smile. "Well I was distracted by the fact that I was just abandoned by my wife."

She waved a hand in dismissal. "Please. I was getting some air. You'll forgive me anyhow."

He laughed softly. Taking her hand to his lip, he pressed a soft kiss to the delicate skin. "Of course I do. So, my friend, are you willing to try and make this work?"

She lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. "I thought you were smarter than that. Need you to ask? But we'll discuss your lack of intelligence afterwards."

The prince looked puzzled. "Afterwards?"

She playfully hit him in the arm and thought of her the King and her's father advice- duty calls. May the blessed light forgive her for keeping her secret. "Did you come all this way after your wife, and now that she is sitting here, before you, you're not," she leaned forward, "even going to take part," the warm breath against his ear and neck created a stir in his body, "what you are entitle too, my husband?"

"But your fath-" he stopped mid word when the delicate mountain elf pressed a kissed under his ear, her finger innocently tracing the tip of his ear, "father-" he forced out, gaining control, "he's outside?"

"There is a lock on the door."

And that was all the prince needed to hear.

* * *

**T.B.C.**

I really love hearing if you enjoy the story so far. It helps counter the icky stuff in my mail box, believe me.

-blurr


	14. There is an Ugly Truth to Me

**The King**

Chapter Thirteen: _There is an Ugly Truth to Me_

by blurr

* * *

Legolas glared at the door lock. It proved useless to him after all. Only seconds into pulling his wife into the bed and running his hands through her hair did he notice that she was tensing up. As his lips found hers, he felt her walls coming up. Was she not a minute ago teasing him, tracing his ear and pressing her lips against his neck? What happened? He certainly played these moments over and over again in his head as he made his way from the caves to the mountains in pursuit of his fleeing wife- but her initiation followed by her rejection wasn't part of that...um, fantasy.

She did initiate physical contact, didn't she?

_"Did you come all this way after your wife, and now that she is sitting here, before you, you're not," she leaned forward, "even going to take part," the warm breath against his ear and neck created a stir in his body, "what you are entitle too, my husband?"_

_"But your fath-" he stopped mid word when the delicate mountain elf pressed a kissed under his ear, her finger innocently tracing the tip of his ear, "father-" he forced out, gaining control, "he's outside?"_

_"There is a lock on the door."_

_He pulled her to the bed, as she reached for his cloak. The kisses on his neck left him aching for her. "Enelya, love…"_

"_Shh." She pulled at the belt around his tunic, unlacing as she went. "Legolas…" she sighed as he pressed kisses down her neck. _

_She was beautiful, he thought over and over. So beautiful. He loved the beautiful glow on her skin. It seemed to expand and curve down her chest, to which he kissed along the path. She moaned as he kissed the collar of her dress just above her chest, and suddenly he realized, it was always her. That hole inside could only be filled by her. The fact that that hole was now being filled made him feel warm and complete. _

"_You're beautiful." He reached up for her, and kissed her chin. "So beaut-"_

_She finished his thought by pressing her lips firmly to his as he ran his hands through her hair. Finally his hands found the hem of her dress and reached up to caress her thighs. The only thought he could muster was, "so soft." The trace of his fingers up her leg suddenly made everything more real to him. This was really happening. His little siren was his. But then as he tried to deepen the kiss he felt her resist. Suddenly her walls were rising and the air around her felt defeated. He pulled back to see her eyes downcast, her hands retreating from his form._

"_Love, what is it?" he asked softly, tucking some hair behind ear. "Friend?"_

"_I- I'm." She swallowed. She pulled away from him, and sighed. "I'm more tired than I thought I was, my lord." She sighed and leaned her head against his chest, attempting reassure him. "Can we rest for awhile?"_

And rest she did. She slept, tossing and murmuring in her sleep. Legolas, on the hand, did not get an ounce of sleep, but instead watched her with complete and utter surprise on his face. What had happened? First he took her physical reaction to him as confirmation that she was indeed going to submit to him as his wife, and that she was letting him know that she was happy to be his bride. But then walls were built, the shield put in place firmly- suddenly he didn't where they stand. Did she change her mind? What would have made her change her mind? What had happen within minutes? Was it because he touched her thigh? _Maybe she didn't like her thighs touched_, he thought.

Simply: Legolas felt lost. He sighed, watching her restless form turn yet again, a small moan of discomfort escaping her lips. Yes. He felt very, very lost.

He was astounded when he discovered his father practically escorted her out of the kingdom. When he confronted the King, he was met with a mere shrug and, "have you not a horse, my son?"

And off he went, trying desperately to catch up with his wife.

He was ready to announce his love. To announce his joy. To announce his happiness at their circumstance. To let her know that there was no one else for him and that she was opening the windows into his soul- as silly and corny as it sounded. But then as he tried without stopping through the woods and finally ascended up the mountain with decreasing temperatures he forgot about his happy sentiments and decided he was angry. _Very angry_. How dare she. By the time her father opened the door and he saw her staring stubborning into the fire he decided he wasn't going to let her leave him again. That just wouldn't work. Oh but she was so beautiful, with her arms crossed, refusing to glance at him. But for the first time in a long while he felt a strange a fire spread over him. A possession. She was his. She..._was his_, and he was determined to pull her close, hold her, and let her know she wasn't going anywhere because he loved her. Yet here she was, restless in his arms and for the first time he felt a deepening doubt expand and fold into his gut. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't happy with the bond. She wasn't happy to be his wife. And while she gave it a try, she realized her mistake and quickly built up her walls, putting forth her boundaries.

He felt devastated.

For him the discovered bond was the greatest news. _Enelya was the bride_! She was no longer considered a concubine of the royal court, but an esteem bride of the Prince. As much as he hated to give credit to his father, the King certainly knew what his heart needed. A crazy, adventurous mountain elf with dark lovely locks who could handle her own.

Yet she was so frail now in his arms. Was she not a feisty siren just days before?

_She kissed his cheek and laughed. She ran out a couple of feet into the long grass twirling around. "So high, it grows. I could lose myself in it. Like waves."_

_Legolas watched her, warmed at her friendly kiss. "Funny you put it that way. Always seemed like an ocean to me." _

_"Our private sea." She called out to him over the wind, stepping further into the brush. "I shall be a mermaid and you a clumsy sailor."_

_He smirked. "You're more like a siren if you ask me."_

_She gave him a lopsided grin. "Shall I sing you to your death then?"_

Legolas traced her collarbone as she slept next to him. "So soft. So very soft you are, my siren." He whispered.

Song or not, she was certainly singing him to his death. He was in an emotional downward spiral. She was complicated, and seemed to change her moods daily and on whim. She was rash and thoughtless, and at times the most thoughtful lady he had ever come across. But above all, she had been distant from him since the discovery of their bond. That just simply couldn't stand, anymore. He wasn't surprised that she ran back to her fathers. He wasn't surprised that she seemed to melt instantly at his presence in her father's doorway. He wasn't even surprised when she began to initiate intimacy with him. He was surprised, however, come the few minutes when his beloved and warm wife became a silent and distant presence. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. But now, as he watched her sleep, he knew his siren was still in there somewhere. He thought of the times back in the kingdom when she slept with ill dreams, restlessly tossing much like she did now. Before he knew it, he started singing to her song softly, his hands running through her hair.

"O'er mountains pass we'll go. Where tress so green, and waters blue, lure us home, my emerald lass."

"Legolas." she said softly, interrupting his smooth voice as he sang quietly to her. He glanced at her face, unaware she had woken up.

"Yes?" he felt his heart beat faster as she bit her lip.

"We never found that ship of yours." she smiled carefully.

He wanted to ask which one, but instead shrugged.

He smiled. "Siren, siren, do you not remember you brought it down with all your song and might?"

"I'm sorry about the shipwreck." She idly pushed his hand away from her collarbone and sighed. "If I can sing, then our fathers are pure and honest." He laughed softly at that. Right. Thranduil, pure and honest. "How long have we been sleeping?"

"Not long." He didn't feel it was necessary or helpful to inform her that he never slept but instead watched over her. "Dawn is just outside, no sun yet." Then, seeing the way she winced added, "Friend, are you ill?"

She nodded no and ran a hand through her dark locks. Legolas wasn't sure if he believed her or not.

"Friend," he paused, unsure if the sentiment was right, "we have to return today."'

"Return where?" She asked absently, pushing her hair behind her before yawning.

"Home." And then, since she didn't say anything, he added, "to the caves."

She sat up abruptly, "Yes, my Lord." She felt hopeless. There was nothing she could do to end the bond, nor was there anything she could do to postpone him finding out the real truth about her.

Legolas sighed. Silent and distant, he hoped she didn't say this way for too long. And with that he pulled her back down and kissed her nose.

"Legolas," she complained, pushing against his chest, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Kiss my nose." He demanded. And then softer, "you promised."

* * *

Enelya played the memory over and over in her head as she traced the pearl around her neck. She found it in the pack Thranduil had given her before she left.

_"Have no fear, my lady," he pulled out a flash of silver and it took her a second to make it out as a silver necklace with a single white pearl, "this," he gestured to the necklace with a mischievous grin, "is a magical pearl, or so I am told." At her doubtful look he added, "I speak the truth," he motioned her to turn around and she did so laughing at his ridiculous tale, "it comes from the depths of the sea, I believe it belonged to a great sea witch," she could feel his warm breath on her neck as he fitted the cold, silver chain in place. She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach as his finger made contact with her bare skin. "And she, in her all-knowing foresight, cast a special spell over the pearl just for you my lady."_

_Enelya hid her amusement and played along. "Really? And what spell did the sea witch see fit for a little mountain elf like me?"_

_"Why," his fingers brushed over her neck, clasping the silver chain with a small click, "protection against any foolishness or embarrassing moments here at Mirkwood, of course. You, child, are free of any misfortunate events."_

_She feigned interest in his magical tale with a somber look of curiosity. "And how did you, a simple Mirkwood subject, come across such a fated pearl?"_

_"My lady," he said while he placed a hand over his heart, "Surely you jest. I am the best archer of Mirkwood and therefore not nearly as simple as you label me," she giggled despite herself and he continued on, looking quite smug. "I have been its lone protector for over a thousand years, given the task of presenting it to its rightful owner when she finally decided to grace the wood elves with her beauty."_

_"Indeed." She laughed and turned back around. "Hopefully you did not have to face too many big monsters."_

_"Of the most horrible kind." He said laughing._

_Her finger found its way to the pearl, and she smiled thankfully to him._

But even pretend magical pearls couldn't keep the truth from spilling over like a deadly pool, drowning them along with the current.

She felt her resolve slipping, her heart failing, and her husband shifting._ Everything was about to change_. The darkness was finally going to catch up; she had been running for too slow.

"Legolas?" The prince turned, looking over the fire he built that morning.

"Yes?" His calm and thoughtful voice annoyed her. Why couldn't he just be distant so she didn't have to feel like the bad guy?

"I'm afraid the sea witch fooled you." she pointed out.

He smiled, looking at her necklace that rested just above her chest.

"Are you suggesting a prince like me can be fooled? Come now, have you not heard of my wit?" he smiled at her, hoping to reassure her, but instead she looked back at the fire. She felt irritated. He had been trying all day to get her to open up and laugh or smile.

"Precisely. Your wit fails you, my friend. I have been nothing but prone to misfortune since this necklace found me." She glanced down at her hands. The morning was spreading, deepening into the woods and mountains. They were making their way back to Mirkwood, slowly and thoughtfully. She was surprised when Legolas announced they were setting up camp the night before. He was taking his time, she realized, and felt grateful for the first time that day. According to his plans, they wouldn't make it back to the caves until tomorrow.

She was thankful for the delay, but she realized the time alone together would cause the truth to surface. "I am the biggest fool of them all." she whispered.

"Enelya." Legolas moved around the fire, sitting closer to her. "I am struggling with keeping up with you." He smiled. "I know I'm moody and emotional, but you are off the charts my love. Tell me, my beloved lady, what is really going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Fear." She whispered and then in one breath added, "Fear. Distrust. Animosity."

"Towards me?" he asked, lifting his brows.

"Never." She sighed. "I just…I thought love would play out differently. I thought, if I did fall in love, or rather, if someone fell in love with me, things would have been explained. Everything would be in the open between us." She shrugged. "I thought this," she gestured between them, "wouldn't feel tense."

"And what about love?" he asked. "What about us is not right to you? Why are you silent towards me? Why are you restless and ill while you sleep? I am completely aware that there is plenty that is not out in the open between us, but you are keeping it from me. Why? What are you hiding, Enelya?"

"I…" she paused, feeling close to bursting out in tears. "I'm not fit to be your bride Legolas."

"Do you love me?" he asked, more forcefully than he intended.

She leaned closer into him and sighed. "I love you yes, but right now I want your father's head on a silver platter for keeping you in the dark."

"Kiss my nose, Enelya." he asked again, just happy to have her sitting to close.

She laughed meekly, the sadness never leaving her tone. "What is it with you today? I will not kiss your nose."

"Don't do that," he whispered. He reached for her still. "You promised. It is our pact. Kiss my nose so I know you'll be there always."

She leaned forward and kissed his nose with a sigh. "I will always be your friend, my Prince, but I am not suited to be your bride."

"Lass, your head is not thinking straight." He ran a hand through her hair. "It's been an intense few days I know-"

"Legolas." The sharpness in her tone caused him to worry. She turned back to the fire, idly pushing a few sticks she had been fiddling with into the flames.

She looked so broken as she sat back, her finger tracing the pearl around her neck. Tears framed her eyes and she met his gaze, biting her lower lip.

"I am not suited." _Please_, she thought,_ let that suffice_.

"Siren or not, you're mine." He held her tighter.

"I'm not a siren, and I'm not pure." The tears finally pooled until they could be contain no more.

"Of course you're-" he stopped and swallowed. "You're not pure? You….have you," he looked at his hands feeling his heart beat faster, "have you been bedded?"

She sighed, feeling the darkness finally swallowing them. She reached for his hand and nodded once. "Friend…please, kiss my nose." _Please forgive me. _

* * *

**T.B.C.**

um, 5 years absent. Don't hate!  
In other news: follow along at my profile page for the revamp and completion of the story!  
miss you guys.

-blurr


	15. Please, Be Direct

**The King**

Chapter Fourteen: _Please, Be Direct_

by blurr

* * *

They continued throughout the day without speaking much, each on their own horse, making their way down the slopes of the mountain and into the woods. Often he glanced over at her, watching the way she absently looked around her. He felt his heart fold into his gut as he replayed their conversation and her words over and over again.

_"You promised. It is our pact. Kiss my nose so I know you'll be there always."_

_She leaned forward and kissed his nose with a sigh. "I will always be your friend, my Prince, but I am not suited to be your bride."_

_"Lass, your head is not thinking straight." He ran a hand through her hair. "It's been an intense few days I know-"_

_"Legolas." The sharpness in her tone caused him to worry. She turned back to the fire, idly pushing a few sticks she had been fiddling with into the flames._

_She looked so broken as she sat back, her finger tracing the pearl around her neck. Tears framed her eyes and she met his gaze, biting her lower lip._

_"I am not suited." __Please__, she thought,__ let that suffice__._

_"Siren or not, you're mine." He held her tighter._

_"I'm not a siren, and I'm not pure." The tears finally pooled until they could be contain no more._

_"Of course you're-" he stopped and swallowed. "You're not pure? You….have you," he looked at his hands feeling his heart beat faster, "have you been bedded?"_

_She sighed, feeling the darkness finally swallowing them. She reached for his hand and nodded once. "Friend…please, kiss my nose." Please forgive me. _

He didn't understand. He had no idea where this was coming from. He understood that their day was anything but simple and she deserved to have any outburst of emotions that she felt, but that didn't leave him feeling any less secure. He was confused and, if he was being honest with himself, he would admit that he was deeply hurt and rejected.

He did kiss her nose, however, hesitantly and carefully. She closed her eyes at the contact, and he wiped the tears on her cheek, praying desperately that the action would soothe her. He had felt cold and numb as he went through the motion, finding the ground beneath him disappearing.

They didn't speak more on it because he needed to process what he was hearing her say.

What he didn't understand was the way she had said it. _Not pure_. Sure, he understood the loose concept and idea of purity within sexual relationships. But by the same standards, he wasn't pure either. He had slept with other she-elves. Yet something in her voice told him something else was going on here. Something dark. Something that was dark that she went through great lengths to keep hidden from him. And that, he decided, he didn't like. He wanted all of the information and didn't like the way it felt being left out in the cold. Especially when it was this lovely she-elf shutting the door.

It wasn't until he had put out the morning fire and packed up their camp that he really began to go over his time with her since she first showed up in the Mirkwood caves. He relived each conversation, each glance and touch. Somewhere, he decided, there was a clue. A screaming red flag begging for his attention.

She was happy, he thought. Carefree. Beautiful and laughing. A strong and independent lady, refusing to bend to the will of anyone. She was a source of comfort and great friendship to him. Of course she was tense and angry with his father on numerous occasions, and who wouldn't be. But generally speaking, she was content.

Wasn't she?

But then, when he saw her yawn out of the corner of his eye as they rode slowly through the woods, he thought of her back in the caves while she slept. When sleeping, her walls came down and the covers folded back. She certainly had a few intense sleep moments since she entered his life. The restlessness, the tossing, and the horrible screaming that sent shivers down his spine.

_"You have been screaming for an hour." A calm voice said. She glanced to the side to see the Prince sitting on a chair that did not belong in her room. He looked like a mess; tired, worried, worn out. But when he saw the concern in her eyes he smiled gently and got off the chair to lay next to her._

_"You did not wake me?" She asked, steadying her voice as much as possible, slightly disappointed at the soft wavering._

_"I had the heart to, love. I promise. It was hard not too." Legolas said quickly in one breath. "You must know that." He kissed her brow and brushed back a few dark locks behind her ears. "However, my father said it was best for you to let whatever ill thought came to you in your sleep to play out so you could discover what would come of it."_

_Her heart felt cold. Nothing good would come of it- nothing ever had._

_Legolas noticed the slight tremble of her lower lip and felt his gut tighten. He had lied. It wasn't just an hour but an entire night, or so it seemed, of her tossing and screaming for help as he sat there, helpless, fighting against himself to merely reach out to his friend and hold her close. She was so dear to him, he couldn't stand to watch her cry._

_"Do you wish to speak of it?"_

_"Nothing good could come of speaking about such illness." Her voice was different than he had heard before. It was colder, dull. Lifeless. He reached for her, pushing her long hair over her shoulder._

_"Enelya," He whispered, "No harm will ever touch you as long as you are in my arms. You know this, so why do you fear?"_

Suddenly he felt confirmed. Something dark did happen. And she was often dreaming about it, the memories resurfacing. He felt curiosity growing in his gut. He wanted to know what happened. He wanted to smooth out the frown lines in her features and give her great cause to smile again. Whatever this 'darkness' was, it was threatening him. Keeping her away from him, from allowing herself to open up to him in an intimate way. That just simply wouldn't do, he decided.

And so, he took his time circling back to the caves. He wasn't ready to have them enter court life so quickly. They needed the time apart, so they could figure out just what was going on between them.

When the night folded into the sky, he told her to dismount because they were setting up camp.

"But we're just an hour outside the caves. If we hadn't been taking so many stops we would have been there the day we left. Why must we set up camp?" She dismounted, pulling her gray sack to her chest.

He shrugged. "Would rather go back and face the court, ready to welcome Mirkwood's new royal princess?"

She bit her lip at that. "No."

He smiled, dismounting himself and stepping towards her. "And wouldn't you rather have more time alone before we greet the mass chaos that is about to bestowed on us." He watched as she sighed deeply and returned her gaze to the ground, running a hand through her hair. "Friend? Please, don't do that."

This time he reached out, pulling her hand to his chest. "Don't do that anymore, we're past it."

She smiled skeptically up at him. "What? Touch my hair?"

"No," he kissed her palm, loving the way she smelled of cedar and rain. "Shut down from me. No more putting up walls. I need you to stay with me."

"I'm standing right next to you," was the soft reply. "Silly elf."

"And it isn't good enough." She loved the way he said it. As thought it was a hidden truth he was admitting for the first time. She loved more how he pulled her close into him, kissing her temple ever so softly. "I need you here, present, and open with me. Always."

She looked down at the ground, realizing a detailed conversation would be happening very soon. One she didn't feel ready to talk about.

Sensing her defeat, he squeezed her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. "Fetch some wood, concubine, I'll build a fire pit."

She rolled her eyes at the deranged endearment, but he shrugged. "I've yet to hear a submitted resignation of your currently employment."

She laughed. "I didn't resign. I was just updated to wifehood status."

"Wifehood." He repeated, loving the way 'wife' rolled off his tongue. "Well then, wife," he said slowly, "go fetch the wood just yonder."

She crossed her arms, turning into the brush to fetch sticks. "Dictator." she muttered under her breath, ignoring her wide smile or the warmth spreading throughout her. _Wife_.

* * *

She felt anxious over how calm he was. She felt anxious over how reassuring he made her feel. She didn't want to feel reassured. She didn't want his calmness to encompass her. The more safe she felt, the closer she was to telling him each and every dark memory. Resulting in her guilt and shame expanding and multiplying.

She couldn't stand to think of the way he would look at her then. Pity? Disgust? Sympathy? Or perhaps he'd be without reaction, leaving her alone in her dark memories. Isn't that what she wanted, though? To have these memories be left alone?

She bit her lip, pulling her arms tighter around herself as she watched Legolas pour the boiling water they had fastened above the fire into the cup she had given to him earlier from her sack. _He was so beautiful_, she thought. He was so at ease in the woods, much like she was in her mountains. He had yet to press her for information, yet to make her feel uncomfortable.

His gentleness was slowly breaking her down.

She realized, suddenly, that she didn't want to be left alone, she wanted him to wrap her tightly to himself.

Everything, she thought, would be undone.

But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

"Friend?" He asked, as he finished the tea he had made them. He had been watching her as she absently rubbed her left shoulder. "Tomorrow morning we'll head to the caves. A good warm bath should ease your muscles."

She smiled. "I'm not sure if it's worth it, dear prince."

"And why is that my lady?"

She shrugged half-heartedly and smiled grimly. "Court." And then, as an afterthought, "Your father."

He laughed beautifully at that, loving the way her voice was so grim when she said 'father.' Perhaps the King wouldn't threaten him so much anymore. Afterall, she had plenty of reason to distrust the King now.

"Would my father and his court keep you from a hot bath?" he asked, poking a stick into the hot flames just for something to do.

She nodded, taking a final sip of her tea.

"Legolas," she said softly, setting her cup down, "come sit by me. Here," she patted the ground next to her. "Please."

He wasn't sure what made his gut fold over; the way she said his name, or the way she held out her hand for him. She was reaching for him, he thought, opening up yet again.

He wasn't sure what to do, as though moving or speaking would scare her off again and have her folding over back into her guarded shell.

"I um," he swallowed. "….friend." he breathed out.

She nodded, feeling bad over his hesitation. He had all the reasons to believe she would up and run. She tried to keep her voice soft but firm. "I think we should talk."

And with that he gracefully plopped down next to her, enjoying the way she reached for his hand.

"Please, forgive me." She whispered. She knew there was no going back.

"There is nothing you could ever do that I couldn't forgive you for." He scooted closer to her, thankful for the way her body pressed up next to him. "I love you, my friend. Please. Remember that."

She laughed grimly. "How about you remember that." She leaned into him, looking down. "You might forget in a second."

He sighed, "Friend, you need to be honest and please, be direct with me."

"I was raped."

The words were breathed so quickly, to fast, barely allowing his last word to finish before they pushed their way into the conversation.

He felt her tense up immensely, but wasn't sure if maybe it was just him tensing up.

But then the words themselves began to form into a thought, one he could actually register. I. Was. Raped.

A thousand thoughts poured their way into his mind, but he couldn't successfully grasp at anything other than, "What?"

But by now she was a mess of tears, praying a mantra over and over, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Finding a small ground of clarity, he repeated, "raped?"

But she had yet to cease her mantra and held leaned further into him.

But really he only had one question. "Who?"

"Ask your father," came the bitter reply.

The King? Rage quickly became the only thing in him. "He touched you?"

She looked horrified at the thought. She practically screamed, "No!"

Only feeling slightly calmer, he attempted to soften his tone, and reached out to brush away her tears. "What does my father have to do with this, friend?"

She bit her lip. "He…um."

Legolas felt his breathing slowly return to normal and while he had more questions than he did beforehand, he at least felt the direction and path opening up, slowly and painfully as it may.

"Enelya, start from the beginning."

* * *

**t.b.c.**

thanks for reading. Love to know what you think of my story!

-blurr


End file.
